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Eiitemi at Uio post office N. Y. as Secomi-Olass Matter. 
-♦-Munro’s Library is issued Trl- Weekly. 

WIFE OR SUl. 




The Author of “NOT TO BE WON.” 


NEW YORK: 

NOkMAN L. >IUNR0, PUBLISHER, 
24 & 26 Vandewater St. 

COi yUI«HTED bY NOItMAN L. llUNitO. 








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WIFE OR SLAVE. 


By the Author of “ NOT TO BE^ON.” 








Entered OAXording to Act of Congress, in the year 1884 , by Xor- 
man L. Munro, in the oj^ce of the Librarian of 
Congress^ at Washington ^ D. C. 



NORMAN L. MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

34 36 VANDEWATEE ST, 









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WIFE OR SLAVE. 


By the Author of “NOT TO BE WON.” 


CHAPTER I. 


THE MEETING. 


Charles Leicester was the younger son of a prominent 
New York lawyer, with high social standing on his fa- 
ther’s, and money on his mother’s side. 

Having* through his mother an independent fortune, he 
had, until the age of three and twenty, put off doing any- 
thing but travel and learn languages. 

He had a vague idea that some of these days he would 
do something, as through his father’s influence he could 
always command a position in the diplomatic service. 

As he was no idler, content to live on the proceeds of 
his mother’s twenty thousand dollars, he had for some 
time been busy pondering in his mind what would be the 
wisest course to pursue. 

He was in Rome with a friend about his own age. 

He had done all the usual rounds, and so a virtuous 



was on him. 

“ Denby,” he said to his young friend, as they yawned 
over the late breakfast at the fashionable American hotel : 
“ I am getting tired of all this; besides, my father seriously 
wishes me to be doing something.” 

“Charles Leicester,” responded the young man, with a 
slight lisp which is better imagined than imitated on pa- 
per, “how can you speak in that ridiculous way?” 

“I am not independent,” retorted Leicester. “I must 
either put myself in harness or marry.” 

“How very horrible,” said Denby, with an expression 
of comic terror ; “well, I suppose one has to do it some day, 
but at our age, the very thought of such self-sacrifice is 
horrible.” 

“I do not think so,” observed Charles, with a look of 




WIFh OR ^LAVEf 


profound wisdom; “ there is a great deal to be said on the 
matrimonial side, but I won’t say it.” 

“Don’t, there’s a good fellow.” 

“I will not until I meet the right person,” laughed 
Charles; “but to-day is Monday. I think of starting on 
Friday.” 

“ Heaven! On Friday,” lisped Denby. “ Oh, no, Satur- 
day ; besides, Thursday we go to Doria’s, and shall be too 
tired next day.” 

“ I am tired of breakfasts, balls, parties, of everything,” 
said Charles, with a sigh. 

His friend looked keenly at him, not at all satisfied with 
his words. 

“Where have you been these last few days, while I 
have been playing propriety with the Mowbray girls?” 
asked he. 

‘ ‘ Doing the round of the studios. I spent four hours 
with Chalfront yesterday,” replied Charles, concluding his 
words with an obvious sigh. 

This sigh caused his friend to think very much, but as 
he knew his companion to be singularly touchy on certain 
points, he said nothing, but determined to wait and 
watch. 

He knew that Charles had a very susceptible heart, and 
was very much afraid that he had tumbled over some 
beauty of inferior rank and position, of whom he was* 
either ashamed, or, at all events, ashamed to speak. 

As it was, he called around to bid farewell to his old 
friends, the Mowbrays, and left his sensitive friend to his 
refiections. 

Whatever these may have been, he quietly kept them to 
himself. 

And so the days passed until that of the Doria’s ball, 
which was to be one of the most brilliant affairs that had 
taken place in Eome for some time past. 

All the English and American colony were to be in- 
vited. 

That is to say, those who could show their claims either 
in blue blood or money. 

The latter generally goes the farthest in Italy, whose de- 
generate princes and nobles judge people by the length 
of their purse. 

Charles Leicester was perfectly listless about the matter, 
but his friend, Denby, was decided to keep him up to the 
mark. 

He had promised tliat his handsome compagnon de voyaye 
should on that night know his distant relatives. 

Charles was too good-hearted, and too good-natured not 
to acquiesce in all the young man’s demands, and accord- 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


3 


ingly , at ten o’clock on the night in question, he was ready 
to accompany him to the ball. 

Unlike many of the princes of Eome, the Duke Di Doria 
was very rich, and had thrown open his superb apartments 
m regal style. 

Soft music, beautiful flowers, pictures, marbles, which 
only Italy can produce, were there, also lovely and superb 
women, and over all was cast a voluptuous languor, which 
is caused by the climate. 

The music and the fragrant warmth, acting in combined 
effect, made every one ready for the dance at onoe, and 
as soon as the rooms were full enough to justify so doing, 
the dancing began. 

Charles Leicester was intimately known by name to the 
Miss Mowbrays, and they were very glad to be personally 
introduced by their cousin. 

They were well-bred girls, without affectation of any 
kind, and were both almost equally handsome, Blanche 
and Violet. 

They were delicately fair girls, with rich, auburn locks, 
which in deference to the unmeaning exigencies of society, 
were fastened up in some style as abhorrent to nature as 
to beauty. 

They had received a good education, and were pleasant 
and conversable. 

Charles Leicester having once taken charge of Miss Mow- 
bray, acted as in duty bound. 

He conversed on all topics of fashionable and local in- 
terest, and impressed his companion very favorably. 

But there was to any one who had been a keen observer, 
a listlessness in liis manner, varied at moments by deep 
anxiety, which indicated that though his body was pres- 
ent, his mind was far away. 

Presently, after two dances with the young lady, Charles 
Leicester handed her over to the custody of her mother, 
and sauntered off. 

At some distance he had noticed his friend Chalfont, the 
artist, one of the most popular Americans in Rome, a 
dark- haired young man, with a dre adful expression, as 
some were wont to say, while others described him as an 
uncommonly fine fellow. 

He was alone, and was looking around with a rather 
blase, listless manner, until he saw Leicester, when his eye 
lighted up with pleasure. 

“ So you have not left Rome?” he said. 

“No; despite all my resolutions, I have delayed again. 
Denby could not give up this affair, so I stayed,” replied 
Leicester. 

“Ain’t you very much bored?” asked Chalfont. 


4 


WIFE on slave 9 


“Infinitely so,” responded Leicester. 

“Well, then, suppose we adjourn. We can be back in 
time to show ourselves,” continued Chalfont, with some- 
thing very much like a yawn ; “this is too slow for me.” 

“ Where would you go?” asked Leicester. 

“To the Casino Varese,” observed the artist. 

Now the Casino Varese was said to be a very wicked 
place. 

In truth it was a private house owned by a countess, 
where roulette was played, and which was winked at by 
the authorities, because it was supported by a class not 
easily to be offended. 

Leicester had never been there. 

Some impulse which he could neither explain nor con- 
trol, made him anxious at that moment to go, though, 
hitherto, he had always avoided any such localities. 

They glided down-stairs, took their cloaks, and were 
driven to the street where the residence of the Countess 
Varese was situated. 

It was in a dark and obscure street, and reached from 
under an archway. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE CASINO VARESE. 

The rooms thrown open by the elderly countess were 
several in number, and were severally devoted to dancing, 
conversation, and play. 

As very many eminent and agreeable people were to be 
met with, it was frequented by persons who never thought 
of touching a card or engaging in games of chance. 

Chalfont and Leicester, as they made their way through 
the rooms, saluted several acquaintances, and thus gradu- 
ally gained the apartment devoted to business. 

Charles Leicester had never been a gambler, but was al- 
ways ready to make a hand at whist. 

The sight before him now was novel. 

Around the table, eager, fierce, careless, anxious, accord- 
ing to their several characters, sat men and women, wait- 
ing the decision of the deity of chance. 

It was not a pleasant sight, as a rule, and Charles was 
about to turn away, when his very heart seemed to stand 
still, his cheeks became deadly pale, then fiushed, and he 
stood open-mouthed — transfixed. 

His eye had fallen on a girl, to all appearance a mere 
child, who was watching the game with an interest and 
anxiety that was entrancing. 

Never had he seen a head set so beautifully on feminine 
shoulders. 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


6 


Never had he seen so perfect a face, never gazed on eyes 
that more resembled what the poet calls wave-washed 
onyxes. 

Then, as she threw down some more money to replace 
that which she had lost, she did so with such a melodious 
laugh Charles Leicester believed he had never heard in 
this world. 

He turned and clutched Chalfont’s arm. 

“The original of the portrait,” he said, in a voice tremu- 
lous with emotion. 

“Yes; what do you think of her?” responded Chalfont, 
Avith affected carelessness. 

He did not answer for a moment. 

His eyes Avere again fixed on her, as he asked himself 
several questions. 

Was she beautiful, or was she not beautiful? 

What was the secret of form or expression which gave 
such electric power to her glance in that slight and fragile 
being? 

Which genius was predominant, the good or the eAdl? 

“She is very beautiful,” he said, with a sigh ; “ but what 
should a young girl like her be doing at the roulette table?” 

“ Miriam Di Lasso seems haunted by the demon of un- 
rest,” replied the artist. “She is believed to be stupen- 
dously rich. She is traveling under the guardianship of a 
rather ill-looking grandee, a duenna, and Avith a train of 
servants. She goes everyAvhere. I understood she was to 
have been at the Prince Doria’s to-night.” 

“ You knoAv her?” asked Leicester. 

“ I have painted her portrait, and have got on intimate 
terms with herself and friends.” 

“ Can you introduce me?” eagerly demanded the young 
man. 

“ With pleasure,” said Chalfont, scarcely able to restrain 
a smile at the other’s excitement. “ Come this Avay.” 

And he advanced to the gaming table. 

The young lady turned, and nodded with a sweet smile. 

“ One moment,” she said, with a sweetness of tone which 
added powerfully to her other charms ; “let me know my 
fate.” 

She had doubled her stake on the well-known martingale 
system, and had lost. 

She arose carelessly, and hurried toward the artist with 
a look of almost comic deprecation. 

Then Charles saw that in addition to her beauty of face 
she had that form, with the long, flexible throat, the long, 
narrow eyes, which give some women, for good or ill^ 
something of the characteristics of the serpent, 

“You are going?” gaid Chalfont, 


6 


WIFE (JR SLAVE? 


“ Well, yes, I really do not know why I came except to 
relieve my ennui. I promised the marquis to meet him 
at the Doria's, but got my faithful Garcia to bring me 
here.” 

“My friend here,” replied the artist, “Mr, Charles 
Leicester, wishes for an introduction.” 

She raised her eyes to the young man’s face, and after 
two or three more words, frankly held out her hand. 

Charles was, as it were, magnetized. 

There was something in her glance which seemed to over- 
come his whole being, while the touch of her hand ap- 
peared to thrill to his heart of hearts. 

“ Mr. Chalfont will bring you to my morning receptions,’’ 
she said, with a seductive smile; “we shall thus become 
better acquainted. I must now away to Palazzo Doria.” 

And beckoning to a grave-looking lady in rich, black 
silk and lace to join her, she bowed herself away. 

“Who or what is she?” asked Charles of his artistic 
friend. 

“A kind of female Sphinx,” replied the other. “Her 
name is Miriam Di Lasso. She is of Spanish Mexican 
origin, and is believed to own large property in that coun- 
try. But she is very reticent about herself.” 

“She has friends?” 

“She is under the tutelage and guardianship of a cer- 
tain Marquis Di Trejico. I have no doubt it was to escape 
from his wearisome watching she came here.” 

“ Let us return to the Palace Doria,” said Charles Leices- 
ter, abruptly. 

“ With all my heart,” laughingly responded Chalfont, 
“though it were wiser to tempt fortune here than to fol- 
low in the footsteps of a siren.” 

Charles Leicester simply shrugged his shoulders. 

Going out, they were driven back to the residence of the 
prince. 

In the crush of fashion and beauty their absence had 
been scarcely observed. 

No sooner were they in the room than Charles left his 
companion, and took an apparently aimless walk about 
the apartment. 

But his eyes were not idle. 

He contrived to see all his acquaintances and friends just 
in time to glide away and avoid them. 

But he was evidently in search of some one. 

Soon his search was rewarded. 

Seated on a couch in a retired part of the room, as if 
resting,^ was Miriam Di Lasso, accompanied only by her 
duenna, Garcia, as she called her. 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 7 

There was a weary look on her beautiful face, which 
struck Charles Leicester with a sudden pang. 

Still he advanced with a low bow to where she sat. 

He was startled at the mingled expression of shame and 
fright which seemed to rest upon her face. 

Next instant this was gone, and was replaced by a sweet 
and sunny smile. 

“ All alone. Miss Di Lasso?” he said, in almost a humble 
tone. “ Am I intruding?” 

“ Oh, no,” she replied, “I contrived to slip in without 
being observed, and was enjoying a few moments of re- 
pose. Do you know, Mr. Leicester, that too much pleas- 
ure is wearisome?” 

What surprised the American not a little was the fluency 
and purity with which she spoke the English language. 

He would have liked to have questioned her on this 
point. 

But he was too timid. 

There was about her what some one has called a “cer- 
tain flerceness of maidenhood,” which repelled curiosity. 

‘•Well,” said he, in as unconcerned a tone as he could 
assume. 

This young man was drifting very rapidly toward a state 
of mind which bereaves us of common sense. 

“ There can be no doubt that it can be overdone, but as 
I have had the pleasure of seeing you to-night for ihe first 
time, I can scarcely sympathize with your feelings.” 

She laughed a silvery laugh, and then continued the con- 
versation. 

“I hate flattery,” she said, almost fiercely; “I have too 
much of it. Do you make a long stay in Home?” 

“ My movements are very undecided,” he replied; “but 
they are commencing a waltz. May I have the honor?” 

She took his arm readily, and soon they were whirling in 
the mazes of that most voluptuous dance. 

Like all of her nation, she was a born dancer, and gave 
to tlie amusement her undivided attention. 

Charles, who was accustomed to colder and more con- 
ventional natures, was amazed. 

It was not only the abandon of her manner, but the real 
delight shown in her eyes and every play of her expressive 
features. 

In truth, he felt he had never danced before. 

When they had concluded, and he promenaded the 
room with her, he was, as it were, in a dream. 

Suddenly he came face to face with Denby and Miss 
Violet Mowbray. 

He was so intent, however, on his companion that he 


8 


VirtFE OR SLAVE 9 


scarcely noticed them, except by a slight inclination of the 
head, and passed on. 

“ What a remarkable-looking girl,” said the young lady, 
as they went by. “ Who is she?” 

“I have not the slightest idea,” said Denby. “I was 
not aware that Leicester had any acquaintances in Eome, 
except mutual ones.” 

“ She is very beautiful,” continued Miss Violet, with all 
an American girl’s frankness and generosity of character. 

“ Very,” he said, dryly. 

In the meantime, Charles Leicester and Miriam Di Lasso 
had sauntered on towards the spot where the duenna 
awaited them. 

She was not alone. 

Miriam’s dainty gloved hand was leaning on his arm. 

He felt it tremble. 

Would he not have liked to question her? 

“I shall have to introduce you to my guardian,” she 
said, in something of a harsh voice. “ He is rather eccen- 
tric, but take no notice.” 

Before Charles could reply, they were in the presence of 
the duenna and the guardian. 

“ Marquis Di Trejico,” she began, again using her dulcet 
accents, ‘ ‘ this is an American gentleman, Mr. Charles 
Leicester, who wishes to make our acquaintance. I have 
asked him to our Monday morning reception.” 

The marquis was not a pleasant-looking individual. 

He was tall, thin, and swarthy. 

His complexion had that yellowish tinge which is almost 
peculiar to the Mexican race, and from which generally 
Spaniards of pure descent are exempt. 

His eyes were small. 

His mouth was large, with splendid teeth, which he 
showed very much when he smiled — as he did now, with a 
sarcastic expression that he vainly strove to conceal. 

“We shall be happy to see the gentleman on Monday in 
our poor home,” he said, in a very impure English. “ Shall 
you be ready to return soon?” 

“No, marquis ; I have only just come, and have promised 
this gentleman another dance,” she replied, and drew 
Charles away. 

“Cara?n6a.'” said the Spanish -American, using an ex- 
pression of the common people. ‘ ‘ Where did she pick up 
this fellow?” 

“ The Signor Chalfront introduced him.” 

“MY demonios on both,” continued the exasperated mar- 
quis; “when will this martyrdom end? What a fool I 
was to come to Europe.” 

“ I always thought it unwise to leave the sunny shores 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


9 

of Mexico for cold and calculating northern lands,” said 
the duenna, quietly. 

She was a woman of tall stature, with a rather harsh 
countenance, stern and cold in mien; hut her voice had a 
commanding and metallic ring, that had its influence even 
on her master. 

“ It could not be helped,” he responded. “But there, 
next week to Paris and London, and then for America — 
never to leave it. ” 

It was early morn, despite all the efforts of the irri- 
tated guardian, that saw Mariam Di Lasso take her de- 
parture. 

As far as etiquette and propriety would allow, she had 
been the companion of Charles Leicester all the evening, a 
circumstance which exasperated the marquis to the last 
degree. 

What is ordinarily called falling in love at first sight is 
not a thing impossible, but its genuineness is, as a rule, 
very much to be questioned. 

In the case of Charles Leicester, there could be no doubt ; 
he was very far gone. 

There was a subtle influence about this remarkable girl 
— a power of electricity in her eyes, her walk, her every 
feature, which was made to subject humanity. 

Charles could, in fact, scarcely control his feelings, and 
certainly would have said or done something rash, but for 
the intense power of subjection which existed in the beauti- 
ful Mexican. 

As it was, he handed her over to her guardian after the 
most reluctant fashion, and then finding Denby, returned 
to the hotel in silence. 

His companion began to think he was wearied and ex- 
hausted, and therefore made no effort to speak until they 
reached their apartments. 

“ I am dying for a cigar,” he then said, casting his slight, 
aristocratic frame into a chair; “have one, Charles?” 

The young man was not at all disposed for anything but 
repose and thought ; but he did not like to do anything to 
excite suspicion on the part of Denby. 

He little knew what was coming. 

“ Let us have a bottle of champagne or two,” observed 
the young man, who had rung for the obsequious attend- 
ant: “these Italians are very chary of their refresh- 
ments.” 

“Willingly,” said Charles; “I have tasted nothing all 
the evening.” 

“ If we are to leave Eome to-morrow,” said Denby, in the 
most innocent of styles, “ we must not make a night of it.” 

“ I regret to appear fickle, but I shall not be able to d^-^ 


10 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


part from Eome as soon as I expected,” replied Charles, try- 
ing to appear utterly indifferent. 

“Indeed! What has happened wholly to change your 
mind?” asked his friend. 

“I have been introduced to some Americans, and am 
hound to them on Monday,” replied Charles. 

“Was that lady I saw you with an American?” asked 
Denby, in some surprise. 

“ A Mexican Spaniard, ” said Charles. “ I never saw her 
before to-night : but I have admired her portrait on several 
occasions. Will you go with me on Monday?” 

“With pleasure,” responded Denby, and soon after they 
parted. 

“The sooner I get Charley away the better,” mused the 
young man : ‘ ‘ these foreign adventurers are very cunning, 
and I am afraid the poor fellow is very hard hit.” 


CHAPTER III. 

MONDAY. 

Charles Leicester, usually so unromantic and practice 1, 
showed very few signs of his usual character on the oc- 
casion. 

As soon as he arose on the afternoon of Friday, he dress- 
ed and went out, very much, as his valet said, like an Ital- 
ian brigand. 

He did wear a cloak and a slouched hat, for the simple 
reason that he did not want to be recognized. 

As Charles Leicester had no other design than to wander 
around the residence of the beautiful Mexican, no one 
could gainsay him. 

She resided in a palace near the Corso, and Charles Leices- 
ter, seeing several persons enter, had a great mind to fol- 
low in their train and present himself to the beautiful girl, 
who so strongly filled his mind, before the day when he 
was invited. 

But etiquette has its iron barriers and chains, which are 
not to be broken with impunity. 

He was, however, to a certain extent rewarded for his 
assiduity. 

An open carriage presently emerged from the court-yard, 
and in this were seated the young lady and her duenna. 

He only caught a slight glimpse of her countenance as 
she was wheeled past, but he saw that it bore that weary 
expression which had already surprised him at the ball- 
room. 

It was one of utter exhaustion and pain. 

Then he went home and occupied himself in writing let- 
ters to New York, 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


11 


Long and weary the hours he counted between that and 
Monday afternoon, when he was to present himself to the 
beautiful Mexican. 

Denby, with all his lightness of manner and affectation, 
was both noble-hearted and devoted in character. 

He felt the deepest interest in his companion. 

He knew Charles’ father to be very much prejudiced 
against foreigners as a rule, and he had a vague idea in his 
own mind that Mexicans were all adventurers. 

He was therefore determined to accompany him to the 
residence of the Spanish-American marquis— determined 
to exercise his influence on their return to hurry their de- 
parture for New York. 

Monday at last came, and the two young gentlemen, in 
formal and perfect morning dress, were ushered into the 
apartments where the marquis received his intimes, as the 
foreign expression is — that is, a select circle of friends. 

A superb suite of apartments, glowing with tropical heat 
and ablaze with flowers, showed the nationality of the 
owners. 

The marquis was very affable, despite his appearance, 
which was very much against him. 

Having received the young Americans, he turned to wel- 
come others, and Charles at once took the opportunity to 
cross the room to where Miriam sat, surrounded by a kind 
of court. 

Those nearest to her at once made way for the new 
arrivals, and Denby was presented to the lovely Mexican 
by his friend. 

He was completely stunned — fascinated at once to the 
last degree. 

As, however, Miriam made way for the older acquaint- 
ance, Denby moved away, as did several others, attracted 
by music or a splendid buffet. 

Presently Charles and Miriam found themselves alone. 

Silence prevailed for some little time, and then Miriam 
spoke. 

‘‘You appear well acquainted with Rome,” she said. 
‘ ‘ Chalfont tells me you are an assiduous frequenter of the 
atelier 

“ Chalfont exaggerates,” he answered. “ I have been a 
regular attendant there since he has been engaged on your 
portrait.” 

Miriam started ; she looked around in alarm, and then 
lowered her eyes to the ground. 

“You will need go there no more, then,” she continued. 
“ It will be packed up to-morrow with all our belongings.” 
“ You leave Rome?-’ he cried, anxiously. 


12 


WIFE OE SLAVE 9 


“Yes, so my guardian has settled it. We depart to- 
morrow,” she added. 

“ Miss Di Lasso,” he said, with a gravity which he found 
difficult to assume, ‘ ‘ I must say I regret it very much. 
I had hoped we should have become friends.” 

“ I hape no friends,” she answered, wearily. 

“ Your guardian — your family,” he urged. 

“Mr. Leicester, we are almost strangers; do not let us 
speak of such things. I understood you would soon leave 
yourself?” 

“ I had arranged to depart on Saturday,” he responded, 
“before I saw you.” 

Now all this was plain enough ; but the girl would not 
see it. 

“If you are leaving Eome,” she said, “ I suppose you are 
not very particular where you go?” 

“ It is of little or no moment,” he answered, sadly. 

“ Then perhaps in ten days we may meet in Paris,” she 
answered, prettily; “and now, pray, make way for some 
one else.” 

Charles Leicester arose as one in a dream. 

He had almost made love to her — had not been rebuked. 

No! she bade him meet her in Paris in ten days. 

He would be there, no matter what happened. 

Satisfied with this victory, he, wishing not to excite any 
suspicion in the mind of the Mexican marquis, took an 
early opportunity of retiring, being careful, however, to 
pay his formal respects to the master of the house, who 
showed his teeth, smiled, and was very polite. 

“ i)emon^o / ” he muttered to himself, as the other turned 
his back, “so you have agreed to meet in Paris my turtle 
doves.” 

That evening, Charles Leicester, finding even the 
thoughts of Miriam not enough to make up for her society, 
proposed to Denby to take a stroll through the streets of 
Rome. 

There is nothing in the world to rival in beauty and 
charm that city viewed by night. 

As Leicester was not disposed on this occasion for so- 
ciety, he avoided those parts of the city where he was 
likely to meet English and American acquaintances. 

He wanted to think, or if he did speak, to do so of the 
one absorbing subject which engrossed bis thoughts. 

“ It is a great pity,” said Denby, philosophically lighting 
and smoking a cigar, “ that when men fall in love, they 
don’t make hermits of themselves.” 

“ Why?” replied Charles Leicester, starting. 

“Here have I counted thirty minutes by the clock,” 


WIFE OR slaved la 

continued the young man, with imperturbable gravity, 
“since you have spoken one word.” 

“I beg your pardon, Denby, but I am a terrible churl,” 
cried Charles, blushing like a young girl. “But I was 
thinking.” 

“ Of the mysterous maiden?” laughed the young man. 

“Yes, I was thinking if really we shall meet again, and 
whether she will keep her appointment in Paris,” gravely 
answered Charles. 

“ Sangue del Christoph hissed a voice in his ear. “ Take 
that.” 

A long glittering blade flashed in the moonlight, and de- 
scended with lightning-like rapidity over the young man’s 
shoulder ; he fell like a log on the ground, giving utterance 
to a heavy and startling groan. 

“Villain!” gasped Denby, rushing after the retreating 
form of the assassin, “ your life shall pay for this.” 

A hollow, mocking laugh was the only response, and 
another groan recalled him to his duty. 

Eeturning to the side of his companion, he stooped and 
peered into his face. 

“Are you much hurt, my poor friend?” he said, in a ten- 
der and earnest voice. 

A groan was the only reply. 

Fortunately at this moment another sightseer of the Co- 
losseum nearly stumbled over them. 

“Good Heaven, Chalfont!” said the nobleman, “here is 
Charles Leicester wounded, I fear, unto death. In the 
name of God, hurry to the hotel, and fetch assistance, a 
carriage, a doctor, wraps and brandy.” 

“ Good Heaven!” cried Chalfont, scarcely able to believe 
his ears. ‘ ‘ I suppose that was the assassin that ran against 
me. But there, I am wasting time.” 

And he turned away, leaving Denby alone with the un- 
fortunate youth, who was panting for life and weltering in 
his blood. 

He breathed that heavy, stentorous breathing which is 
as it were the forerunner of death, and though his friend 
spoke to him in tender and beseeching accents, he answer- 
ed not a word. 

An hour later, he was in his bed at the Hotel D’lngel- 
terra, very white, very exhausted, but likely to do well 
except from loss of blood. 

He was a month before he was quite recovered, and then 
he spoke almost for the flrst time on any but the most or- 
dinary topies. 

“I shall start for Paris to-morrow,” he said, “I’m a 
little behind, but no matter.” 

The next day the two were on their way to Paris, which 


14 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


they reached at the end of six weeks from the time of the 
attempted assassination. 

Through the Mexican embassy, they easily traced the 
marquis. 

He and his ward had remained four days in Paris and 
then had taken their departure for Mexico. 

‘‘ Gone to the other end of the world,” said Denby glee- 
fully. 

“ I shall go after them,” was the quiet reply. “ I must 
see her again, and then I must avenge my cowardly at- 
tempted assassination.” 

“How shall you go?” asked Denby, thoughtfully. 

“My father has influence; as an attache in all probabili- 
ty,” was the answer. 

“ And I shall go as a simple Nimrod,” observed Denby. 

“ You?” cried the other, quite dazed with surprise. 

“ Certainly,” said his friend, dryly. “ What would you 
do without me?” 

And so the matter was settled. 


CHAPTER IV. 

AT HEAD-QUARTERS. 

Mexico was never a favorite residence for envoys or their 
subordinates. 

What with revolutions, the dangerous character of the 
traveling, the frequency of assassination and robbery, and 
many other drawbacks, the republic never was a desirable 
habitat for Americans. 

The spirit of enterprise and commerce, however, has 
peopled it with a very large proportion of foreign mer- 
chants, and their presence necessitates that of a certain 
amount of officials. 

Charles Leicester, therefore, when he asked his father to 
allow him to try his ’prentice diplomatic hand in Mexico, 
found no difficulty in obtaining the necessary post. 

The young man cheerfully accepted what to many was 
odious exile, and started on his wild love chase. 

True to his chivalrous character and to his promise, 
Denby, whom he called Arthur, accompanied him. 

They were each provided with a servant, half valet, half 
sportsman, as in the pursuit of the ignis fatuus which chief- 
ly occupied our young hero’s mind, they might have to ex- 
plore a good bit of very wild country. 

It was a brilliant morning in spring that the two friends 
landed at Vera Cruz and took up their quarters at a cele- 
brated hotel, to repose until the diligenzia was ready to 
transport them to the wonderful capital in the interior of 
the country. ^ ^ 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


15 


Charles had quite recovered. 

The assassin had touched no vital part, and youth and a 
good constitution had done the rest. 

But there was a marked change in him which could not 
but be noticed. 

There was an aureola of thought upon his brow which 
singularly added to his manly beauty. 

“Here we are at last,” said Denby, “in the land of 
pulque, pronunciamento, jalap, and so forth, to say noth- 
ing of the land of beauty.” 

“We don’t see much of it here, ” observed Charles. ‘ ‘ Hot 
air as from an oven, and sand enough to create a desert.” 

Such being the case, they remained indoors all day, wait- 
ing for the evening to commence their examination of a 
country which retains most of its old characteristics of the 
days of Cortez and Montezuma, except that it is not quite 
so civilized. 

The Mexicans are not fond of walking, but in every town 
there is a sort of promenade lined with refreshment houses, 
where the fashionables of the city go at dark to sip choco- 
late, smoke cigarettes, and flirt by means of the fan, an art 
in which all Mexicans are proflcient. 

Guided by a valet de place, they sought this spot, and 
having found what they wanted, dismissed their attend- 
ant. 

Both the young men spoke French, which is understood 
by the upper classes of Mexico, as of most other countries, 
while they also knew Spanish. 

But as they sauntered along, they conversed in English. 

Having for some minutes examined the gay and spright- 
ly scene, they entered a cafe, and selecting a small table 
and two chairs, seated themselves to sip coffee, smoke, and 
look on. 

As in France, ladies have no hesitation in visiting all 
such public places. 

Their dress, very resplendent, is terminated by a reboso, 
or scarf, which, cast around the shoulders and head, serves 
the same purpose as the eastern veil. 

As a rule, nothing can be seen of a Mexican lady but her 
eyes, which she twinkles upon you like a star. 

The sight was novel and amusing, and afforded both the 
young men considerable amusement for some time. 

Suddenly, just in front of th^ cafe, on the pavement, 
there flitted by two women — one young and graceful, the 
other older and of inferior rank. 

They looked not to the right or the left, but when just 
upon the table occupied by the young Americans, the 
younger beauty, whether by accident or design, let fall her 
reboso, and revealed her face, 

^ rv • 


16 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


Hastily adjusting her scarf, she moved away as if fright* 
ened, followed by her attendant. 

“ Heaven !” gasped Charles ; “ ’tis she.” 

And before his friend could restrain him, he had darted 
away in pursuit. 

Denby was so taken aback, that, for a moment, he lost 
his presence of mind, and when he arose, his friend was out 
of sight. 

Still he might have hurried away in time, but that the 
waiter, with a low, cringing bow, reminded him that he 
had not paid for his refreshments. 

With a mild ejaculation, the young man threw down a 
dollar, and then followed in the direction his friend had 
taken. 

But neither Charles, the lady, nor her attendant were 
anywhere to be seen. 

Denby was utterly at a loss what to do, but after consid- 
erable hesitation thought it best to return to the hotel, and 
wait the course of events. ^ 

It was a long and weary waiting. 

Hours passed, and Charles Leicester came not. 

Indeed, three hours passed before he came in, weary, sad 
and dejected. 

“ My dear fellow,” said Denby, “ why did you run away 
and leave me in such a hurry? I have been terrified out 
of my seven senses.” 

Charles thought a moment, and then told him exactly 
what had happened. 

He had caught the sight, for one instant, of the beauti- 
ful, bewitching face, and knew at once that it must be 
Miriam, whom chance had so marvelously thrown in his 
way. 

He saw, however, at once, that the lady was trying to 
avoid him, but he was equally determined not to be driven 
from his design. 

He saw them vaguely before him at no great distance, 
but, unwilling to excite the attention of the passers-by, did 
not hurry too fast. 

Still he made considerable progress, and presently was 
within ten paces of them, when they suddenly halted, 
paused under an archway, and disappeared. 

With a great bound of the heart, as if he thought he had 
lost them, he followed, dashing himself under the sable 
archway, lighted by a dim lamp, to find himself in a 
church. 

It was a rather gloomy place, lighted up for evening de- 
votions ; that is, dimly. 

[ He glanced around for the woi'shipers, but saw no one. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


17 


save some priests and boys, moving with soft steps, like 
so many ghostly shapes up and down. 

Fearing to attract attention, he glided behind a pillar, 
and peered cautiously into every corner. 

Suddenly he saw what he sought. 

The young lady and her attendant were kneeling at an 
altar in the attitude of silent prayer. 

There was a row of steps in front of the gorgeous shrine. 

No one appeared to take notice of the quiet worshipers. 

Charles dipped from pillar to pillar, and was soon beside 
the young girl. 

Having heard that the nights were chilly, he had as- 
sumed a cloak. 

Without thinking of the danger, or the rather anoma- 
lous nature of the proceeding, he knelt down beside the 
lady. 

She never moved, however, or showed any sign of recog- 
nition. 

Then he stooped close to her ear. 

“Will you not speak to me? Say one word,” he whis- 
pered. 

The lady never moved her head, neither bowed nor ex- 
pressed negation. 

“I have come from the other side of the world to seek 
you,” he said, in a reproachful tone. 

Speaking under cover of her reboso, the girl now whis- 
pered : 

“Have you no fear for your life, that you speak to me 
thus in church?” 

Charles drew back abashed, arose, and leaned against a 
pillar. 

Then he heard the two rapidly exchange a few words, 
and rise without turning their heads. 

He at once decided to follow them wherever they went. 

They flitted from the sacred ediflce, and took another 
way, as if to avoid the more brilliant part of the town. 

They did not run, nor make any ettbrt to escape their 
patient tormentor. 

On the contrary. 

They moved slowly and cautiously against the wall, 
until they entered the Grand Plaza, and halted before 
what appeared to be a palace. 

The young lady turned toward Charles, and wholly con- 
cealing her face, said, in a somewhat sarcastic tone: 

“I presume, senor caballero, you will now cease your un- 
manly persecution.” 

And she pointed to several soldiers lounging about at no 
great distance. 

“ I must have a fev/ words of speech with you,” he said. 


18 WIFE OR SLAVE? 

in tones so earnest and heart-rending that the girl stood ir- 
resolute. 

She whispered something to the duenna, who now spoke. 

“My lady thinks you must be mad, but as you seem a 
gentleman, will give you an opportunity of apologizing and 
explaining. “ Follow me, ” she said: “but remember you 
are in a country where stilettos are used at the least provo- 
cation. ” 

Charles thought of another country where he had reason 
to remember the use of daggers. 

The duenna opened a side door, revealing a narrow pas- 
sage lighted by lamps. 

Along this the young lady tripped, ascended a few steps, 
and entered a beautifully-furnished sitting or music room. 

There was a harp, a piano, and a couple of Mexican 
guitars. 

The duenna hurried across the room, and fastened the 
door which communicated with the rest of the palace. 

Then the young lady threw off her reboso, turned, and 
faced the astonished American with a haughty, half -con- 
temptuous glance. 

“Now, sir, explain your business. I am in as much 
danger as yourself,” she said; “but I could not make a 
scandal in the street.” 

“Not Miriam!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands to- 
gether. “ Oh, lady, what must you think of me?” 

No! 

Though the likeness was speaking enough for a twin- 
sister, yet it was not her. 

“Miriam!” cried the young lady, her face beaming with 
a look of surprise and satisfaction. ‘ ‘ Surely you are not 
the Signor Charles Leicester?” 

“I am,” he answered, still more bewildered than ever. 
“ What does it all mean?” 

“Be seated, cahallero^^^ answered the young lady, kindly. 
“You must give me time to think. Then you were not 
killed?” she asked, with a quiet, merry glance. 

“ I was not,” he continued, more and more surprised at 
every step. “One thing I am certain of. You know 
Miriam, and can take me to her.” 

“ That I know Miriam Di Lasso is most true,” she said, 
“ but as to helping you to see her, that is another question. 
Do you know, senor stranger, that you are scarcely polite? 
You do the most daring deed known in Mexico — follow a 
young unmarried girl home ; to speak to her of some other 
more radiant beauty.” 

“ Ah, lady, I can see you are too good, too radiant, too 
lovely, to have any such feelings. I have come all the 
way from New York, for no other purpose than to find 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 19 

Miriam,” he said. “ If you really know her, in mercy tell 
me all !” 

“And you really love her so deeply?” she asked, in an 
arch tone. 

“I love her with all my heart and soul, and wish to 
make her my wife,” he said. 

“And yet you saw her only once or twice,” she con- 
tinued, thoughtfully. 

“ I loved her before ever I saw her,” he responded, ear- 
nestly. “When my eyes fell upon her portrait in the 
studio of Chalfont, my soul was entranced, and I knev/ 
that I had met my fate. I must win her to be my bride, 
or go wifeless to the grave.” 

‘ ‘ All the other ladies in existence must be infinitely 
obliged to you,” laughed the girl, sneeringly. 

' ‘ Perhaps you think us northerners cold. It is not so ; 
but, as a rule, we are constant. That is indeed a vulgar 
nature which, having once felt real love, can allow the 
next beautiful girl he sees to charm his eye and steep his 
senses in a glow. No ; the heart, loving once truly, knows 
no second throb; at least, so I feel,” he cried, with a fire 
and energy that appeared rather theatrical to the impulsive 
Mexican girl. 

“ A truce to lectures on love,” she said, rather sarcastic- 
ally ; “it is rather dull hearing the praises of another lady. 
Besides, you forget you are speaking to a young lady of 
rank, who is supposed to know nothing about love at all, 
but to be prepared, at the will of a parent or guardian, to 
wed a man she has never seen or retire to a convent.” 

This was said with such scorn and defiance as fairly to 
startle Charles. 

“ But we are wasting time. I have no hesitation in say- 
ing that I knew Miriam, that we have long been friends, 
but more I cannot say now. I presume you go to Mexico 
city?” 

“I have the honor of being attached to the American 
Ministry there,” he said. 

“ Then we shall meet. The governor of Vera Cruz, in 
whose house I am staying, starts immediately for the capi- 
tal. Give me your exact address, and I promise you shall 
hear from me and her.” 

“ It is well,” he faltered. 

The young lady smiled. 

“I have no right,” she said, “to reveal seerets, but I 
may say she is not so well as she will be when she knows 
you have not been assassinated.” 

At this moment there was a knock at the door. 

All arose to their feet. " , 


20 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


“ Go-go at once!” cried the lady. “Mercia, quick, the 
door.” 

“ Open, quick, Maria,” said a voice, that thrilled to the 
very heart’s core of the young man. 

“ Lady,” he gasped, while the person that called Maria 
colored up to the eyes ; “ one moment.” 

“If you do not retire at once,” was the cold and stern 
response, “ I cease to be your friend. Go, as you value my 
life and yours.” 

He had no choice, and in two minutes more he stood be- 
wildered and overwhelmed in the open air. 

“ ’Twas her,” he said ; “I could swear to her voice.” 

But further delay was useless, and so, finding one of the 
many idlers who in every MexicanJ town hang for ever 
around the corner of the streets, he was speedily guided to 
his hotel, where Denby waited so anxiously. 

“Eeally, quite an adventure,” ho said, when Charles 
had finishecl his rather prolix narrative ; ‘ ‘ and you think 
that your amarato is in the governor’s palace?” 

“ Certain. The moment she spoke, her voice thrilled to 
the very fibers of my heart,” cried Charles, passionately. 
“ Thank Heaven! she will know I am alive.” 

“ And yet you took the other for her?” 

“Until she spoke,” replied Charles, warmly; “then 
there was no comparison, though to any one who had not 
seen Miriam, Maria would be charming to the last degree.” 

“ A spirited young lady,” observed Denby. 

At this moment a servant of the hotel entered with a 
small parcel tied around with knotted silk. 

He handed it to Charles, who eagerly opened it. 

It contained a portrait picture set around with diamonds, 
and a brief letter. 

“Beware. Your path is beset with danger. Those who 
tried to take your life in Eome will do so here. Better give 
up the pursuit of one who, no matter what her feelings are, 
can never be the bride of a brave and good man. Should 
we meet, do not speak or seem to know me without my 
permission. Leave Vera Cruz at once, and be very care- 
ful of yourself. As soon as your presence is known, look 
upon your life as in danger every moment. 

“ Your faithful friend, 

“Miriam.” 

“Well,” said Denby, as his friend took up the picture 
and gazed at it with a deep and earnest look. 

“ I have no secrets from you,” answered his friend, and 
handed him the letter. 

“We must hire a band of bravoes,” observed the other, 
dryly ; “ it appears to me we’ve come to a queer country.” 


WlI^E OR SLAVE? SI 

Then, setting aside all badinage of manner, he conversed 
seriously with his friend. 

As both spoke Spanish and French, it was resolved to 
assume Mexican disguises, hire good native servants, and 
travel to Mexico on horseback, instead of by the slow dili- 
genzia. 

Should they fall in with the dreaded foe, they might thus 
discover his machinations. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE STATE CARRIAGE. 

Nothing was easier than for two young men, well armed 
and brave, with two servants very much of the same met- 
tle, to find a number of Mexican domestics to act in vari- 
ous capacities. 

It must be recollected that on the road to Mexico inns 
are very scarce, and that travelers ill-provided with provis- 
ion and such accessories are likely to come off very 
badly 

Acting under the advice of the American Consul, they 
secured a train of mules to carry their baggage and other 
articles, four muleteers to manage the animals, and several 
peons to act in varied capacities. 

There was no particular hurry to reach Mexico city, and 
this feeling influenced Charles Leicester the more that he 
knew or believed he was leaving Miriam behind. 

In his own heart, at once crediting the words of Maria, 
he felt that he should meet them on the road, hence 
his readiness to assume the garb of wealthy Mexican 
travelers. 

Charles and Denby traveled slowly, admiring their sur- 
roundings, laughing at the many discomforts of the road, 
and speculating on the future. 

Since the romantic adventure of Vera Cruz, and especial- 
ly since he had examined Miriam’s portrait with a critical 
eye, Denby had felt more interested in the love of his 
friend. 

“A noble brow,” he said, “an almost perfect face, and 
yet how sad the expression. What sorrow can have 
touched that young life? Is Maria anything like this?” 

“ Perhaps you may think her more beautiful,” observed 
Charles, with a smile. ‘ ‘ She may convince such a con- 
firmed old bachelor even as yourself.” 

“ Heaven!” cried Denby, with a comic horror. “ One — 
ahem; well, one person at a time. I must keep a cool, col- 
lected head.” 

And thus, in bantering and other conversation, they rode 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


on, in reality deeply intent on the fate which fortune had 
in store for them in Mexico. 

In that country, lawless and priest-ridden, murder is little 
considered, while it is a common practice to confine refrac- 
tory heiresses in convents, giving the superior a portion of 
her fortune to immure her For ever from mortal gaze. 

In fact, the fair land of Montezuma is in about the same 
state as France, Spain and Italy were two hundred years 
ago. 

They had been on their journey five days, and had 
reached a part of the road where the great forests almost 
met, leaving only space for the rocky road between. 

A comfortable empty hut had offered them accommoda- 
tion for the night. 

Finding that game abounded in the neighborhood, the 
two young Americans determined to give their mules a 
rest, and themselves enjoy a day’s sport. 

They found game even more abundant than they expect- 
ed, so that, when night came, they were ready to recline 
under their fig tree and seek repose. 

The muleteers, mules and peons had the shelter of a 
barn, while the masters and their own special servants oc- 
cupied the hut. 

While the evening meal was being cooked, the guns were 
cleaned and reloaded with that scrupulous exactness which 
characterizes every true sportsman, and conversation ran 
upon game. 

Suddenly there was a loud cracking of whips at no great 
distance, and peering out, they saw a carriage with six 
horses floundering along the road. 

It had three postilions and was guarded by some dozen 
soldiers in yellow uniforms, with long lances, who rode 
behind. 

It was the dusk of the evening. 

“ Heaven!” said Charles, his heart bounding, “ if this be 
the governor of Vera Cruz on his way to Mexico, as a mat- 
ter of course the ladies will be with him. What is to be 
done?” 

‘ ‘ Turn out and camp in the forest. I presume a grandee 
with an escort of soldiers will not be very nice,” replied 
Denby. 

At this moment there was a scene of great confusion ; 
the lancers made a rapid retreat, standing aloof in the 
background, while a band of fierce-looking, truculent men 
emerged from the woods and surrounded the carriage. 

They were the fierce bandits of the forest, against whom 
these escorts are provided, but which escorts generally 
vanish until the plundering is over. 

“ Dogs, leperos, rascals!” said aloud and commanding 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


2B 

voice, “ will you not disperse these vagabonds? And you 
hideous bandits of misfortune, will you dare touch Don 
Jose De Mendoza and his wards?” 

The robbers laughed aloud. 

They knew they had nothing to fear from the soldiers, 
while before the worthy governor could wreak his venge- 
ance, they would be far off. 

“ Give up your money and jewels, or ifc will be the worse 
for you,” responded a deep, hoarse voice. 

“ Follow,” said Charles. “ We’ll settle these vagabonds.” 

And snatching up their fowling-pieces, the four gallant 
Americans made a dash at the robbers. 

The carriage was close at hand now, and Charles distinct- 
ly saw women. 

He did not pause to learn i£ the woman of his love were 
there or not, but advancing briskly, shot the ruffian dead 
who held the first horse’s head. 

Before the bandits, who were twenty in number, could 
turn and defend themselves, three more were laid low, 
and then, drawing their pistols and swords, the four 
Americans formed a barrier between the bandits and the 
carriage door. 

“ Mil demonios /” roared the chief of the robbers. “ Cut 
the scoundrels down. Don’t spare one of them.” 

A steady volley from the unerring pistols of the Amer- 
icans was the reply, and then the soldiery, ashamed of their 
inactivity, dashed up, their lances couched, and made a 
great show of dispersing the remaining robbers. 

The governor of Vera Cruz, a noble-looking man of aris- 
tocratic appearance, here alighted, and after severely rep- 
rimanding the cowardly escort, turned to those who had 
really saved them from outrage and insult. 

“Hidalgoes, I thank you,” he said, in most courteous 
style. To you we owe everything. May I ask whom I 
have the honor to address?” 

‘‘Travelers from New York,” said Denby, in excellent 
French. “ We thought our poor services were required, 
and are most happy if they had been of use. 

“Of use! Those rascals are worse than useless; but 
what is to be done? Our horses are too fatigued to go 
further, and you already occupy the hut.” 

“Which, with everything in it, is at your service,” re- 
plied Denby, Charles remaining silent. ‘We beg to offer 
its shelter and supper to you and your party.” 

“If you will join us,” continued the polite governor, 
“ we shall be happy ; I and the senoritas.” 

Both the young Americans bowed, and then, as the gov- 
ernor turned to speak to the recreant soldiery, with low 
bows, helped the ladies to alight. 


24 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


“ Miriam/’ faintly murmured Charles, '"as he took her 
hand, pressed it, and was rewarded by a very gentle press- 
ure in reply. 

No other words were spoken until the two ladies and 
their duennas entered the hut, which had been prepared for 
the night with a perfect luxury of comforts. 

There was supper, and t^vo couches covered by tiger and 
other skins. 

Then the governor entered, followed by his major domo, 
with wine and some Mexican luxuries from the sumpter 
mules, and all sat down to supper. 

Charles and Denby pronounced their own names in such 
u way that no Mexican could make them out, while both 
had, after some minutes, schooled themselves to appear as 
if neither of them had ever seen the two young ladies be- 
fore. 

Denby was amazed, not only at the great likeness be- 
tween the girls, but at their great and marvelous beauty. 

“ These fair maidens,” said the gallant old soldier, ‘‘ are 
under my charge, and I have therefore to thank you 
doubly for the valor which drove off the robbers, whom 
all the saints confound.” 

‘‘We are only too happy to have been of service,” re- 
plied Charles, with a quiet, grave look at Miriam. 

“ The escort shall be punished. Imagine the impudence 
of the rascals to attack a convoy with a governor in it. 
These two. young ladies, the wards of the Marquis Trejico, 
are on their way to Mexico, and a pretty booty for a set 
of unsanctified rascals,” he added. 

“Sisters, I presume?” said Denby, with a courteous 
bow. 

“Yes,” replied the governor, and changed the subject. 

Considering the circumstances, and the supposed rela- 
tion of the parties to one another, the supper was a very 
merry one. 

The gentleman took advantage of the service they had 
rendered to be familiar with the ladies, and they in the 
most condescending manner favored their saviors. 

“ I presume,” said Charles Leicester, toward the end of 
the evening, ‘ ‘ you will allow us to travel under your es- 
cort!” 

The governor laughed aloud. 

“ Which means that you are gallant enough to offer us 
your escort. Certainly, with the greatest of pleasure ; and 
now, as we leave at daybreak, we must retire and sleep as 
best we can. ” 

It had been arranged that the hut should be given up to 
the ladieSj while the young men would sleep in the barn. 


WIFE on SLAVE? 25 

The governor had the carriage fitted up as a bed, and 
very comfortably. 

As Charles and Denby walked away, they lit up cigars, 
and selecting their own corner away from tneheavily-^eep- 
ing muleteers and peons, sat down. 

“ I say, Charley, old man,” said Denby, our adventures 
have begun.” 

“ What do you think of her?” asked Charles. 

“ Lovely — divine,” was the response. 

“I say, Arthur, you are not going to be spoony?” ob- 
served Charles, pettishly. 

“ I am not speaking or Miriam, but of Maria. How you 
can see anything in the other, when that beautiful creature 
is by, I cannot think.” 

“ I suppose love is blind,” mused Charles. 

‘‘I should think it was,” answered Denby. 

It was a bright and beaming morning when Charles 
Leicester and Arthur Denby left the barn and retired to 
the woods to make a rough and ready toilet, preparatory 
to paying their respects to those who were in reality their 
guests. 

Both young men looked radiant as they met the worthy 
governor of Vera Cruz, Don Jose, and by him were led 
into the presence of the ladies. 

By the aid of the deft Mexican domestics, the cottage 
had been quite transformed in appearance. 

An elegant breakfast was laid out, consisting of choco- 
late, the national beverage, and other luxuries, and over 
this the worthy duenna presided, while the young ladies, 
looking fresh and beautiful, arose to receive their honored 
guests. 

Charles seated liimself near Miriam, while Denby did so 
as naturally near Maria, and the conversation became 
general, the whole party speaking French. 

The young Americans, despite some strong desire to be 
a little more personal than was wise, were careful not 
to make any allusions that might argue previous acquaint- 
ance. 

On this point the wishes of the girls had been so ur- 
gent, that any non-compliance with their desires might 
have seemed wanting in that high-minded and chival- 
rous pride which is the characteristic of the better class of 
Americans. 

Still, the circumstances under which they were brought 
together justified a good deal more familiarity than was 
usual between members of the opposite sex, where the 
jealousy of the men is even greater than in Spain. 

They laughed, talked, spoke of the pleasures and amuse- 
ments of Mexico city, and the young men were listening 


26 


WIFE OR SLa^VE? 


with anxious pleasure to the dulcet tones of the young 
girls, when a startling interruption occurred. 

“ Who, Senor Don Jose,” said a harsh and sinister voice, 
“ are these strangers whom I find having the assurance to 
converse thus audaciously with my wards? Surely you 
are not prisoners of the ladrones?” 

It was the Marquis Di Trejico, his teeth more prominent 
than ever, his yellow complexion more sallow, his little 
black eyes more savage than usual. 

“Marquis,” replied the governor, tartly, “these gentle- 
men not only rescued us from the ladrones, but gave up the 
house in which we are located. But for them your wards 
might at this moment be the prisoners of the bandits.” 

“ Mille graciasP^ cried the Marquis, in a tone that savage- 
ly belied his words ; ‘ ‘ and as I am anxious to reach Mexi- 
co, perhaps you will abridge your adieux.” 

And with a savage, haughty mien, he himself conducted 
his wards to the carriage, turned his back on the strangers, 
and left the worthy and good-natured governor to follow 
as best he might. 

“Brute!” muttered Don Jose, as he took leave of our 
friends. “ We part here, Caballeros, but when“you are in 
Mexico, make my house your home.” 

And he turned away to join his surly acquaintance and 
relative, who had come up with a strong escort of soldiers 
and peons, who thoroughly surrounded the carriage. 

‘ ‘ I wonder, ” said Charles, as soon as they were alone and 
had partially recovered their equilibrium, “if the rascal 
knew us?” 

“There was an odd twinkle in* his vicious little eyes,” 
replied Denby , ‘ ‘ which makes me think we shall be wise 
to keep out of his way until we appear under the eyes of 
the American Ministry.” 

“You are right,” observed Charles, in a thoughtful tone. 
“As I am resolved and determined to make Miriam Di 
Lasso my wife, I must be cautious. What do you think of 
her sistei, Maria?” 

“ Well,” said Denby, in an unconcerned tone, though the 
color in his cheek heightened slightly, “ I think her a very 
charming person, for a foreigner.” 

With which remark the young man arose and proceeded 
to give his orders for an advance. 

The friends could not but feel certain that danger would 
confront them, but urged on by love and friendship, they 
resolved to meet it boldly. 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 




CHAPTER VI. 

A SAGE MENTOR. 

As the two young men knew well that the marquis, if 
he really suspected their identity, would not hesitate to 
thwart their designs, they came to a very wise resolu- 
tion. 

Instead of remaining behind and risking the ambushes 
which an unscrupulous adventurer might prepare for 
them, they determined to pass the slow traveling coach, 
and reach the capital before the governor, the marquis, and 
the young ladies. 

The guide, a sterling, honest muleteer, when they ex- 
plained their wishes, at once offered to solve the difficulty. 

He was well aware of the stopping places for all travel- 
ers, and agreed to slip by the cortege in the night without 
chance of discovery. 

He, however, suggested for this purpose a longer siesta 
than usual, during the heat of the day, which would enable 
him to carry out his plans. 

It was evening when he resumed his journey, and an 
hour’s riding brought them to within a hundred yards of 
the halting place. 

The muleteer went forward and found that the dons were 
there in a rude inn, the carriages, horses, and soldiers be- 
ing camped around a barn, with sentries thrown out across 
the road. 

From this cause, no one could go that road undetected, 
and this was just what the young Americans particularly 
wished to avoid. 

[ But the muleteer was quite equal to the occasion. 

He was well acquainted with every inch of the road. 

‘‘You will dismount, Caballeros,” he said, as he proceed- 
ed to rnuffie the bells of the mules, “and follow me in 
silence.” 

Then taking the head mule, very much disconcerted at 
the want of the usual music, by the bridle, he plunged 
into what appeared to be a dense and verging forest. 

But he knew what he was about. 

It was a clear, well defined bridle path, which, at the end 
of about two hours, brought them out on the road at least 
four miles ahead of the other party. 

At the very same hour, the Marquis Di Trejico was clos- 
eted with this man Maffei, his steward, factotum, and faith- 
ful henchman. 

“You failed me in Rome, bird accursed and of ill omen,” 
said his master ; “ see that you do it not again. That man,” 
he added, with a concentrated expression of rage, which it 


S8 


WIFE on SLAVE 9 


is difficult to render, “is my mortal foe. Some instinct 
tells me, that living, he will snatch from me the prize that 
for years I have coveted. ” 

“A poor, insignificant heretic like that?” urged Maffei, 
with a shrug of the shoulders, which in foreigners expresses 
so much. 

“Ah ! my man, you do not know these Americans. This 
young man saw my ward at Eome,” continued the marquis, 
savagely, “won her favor at first sight, and here he is 
in Mexico. Why? In pursuit of her, and demonio! already 
he has contrived to find her.” 

‘ ‘ Senora Miriam Di Lasso is not a person difficult to 
find,” coolly remarked Maffei, as he played with his ma- 
chete, a short sword knife. 

“I know it, fellow, and now bandy no words with me. 
Let the escort know that, once these heretics are the prey 
of the vulture, there will be a hundred ounces to be divided,” 
hissed the marquis. 

“And your humble servant?” asked the other, in an 
impudent tone. 

“Leave your reward to me,” said the marquis, “and 
mind you fail not, or else ” 

And a dark, gloomy scowl seemed to intimate that 
though perhaps he might be generous, yet certainly he 
could be bitterly revengeful. 

Maffei retired, and taking with him some cronies among 
the escort, kept a good look-out for the Americans and 
their companions, but not the slightest sign of them was 
seen. 

It was only next evening that, halting at a roadside 
osteria, they found that their hoped-for victims were a 
long way ahead on the way to Mexico city. 

The marquis made no remark, but redoubled his vigi- 
lance, and determined, in the face of what he felt to be a 
real danger, to carry out at once the nefarious scheme 
which had for some years been hatching in his mind. 

It must be remembered that, under the name of religion 
and liberty, and with the high sounding appellation of 
republic, Mexico was a hot-bed of despotism, superstition 
and ignorance, that long after slavery was abolished by 
law, it flourished as rank as ever, and that thousands were 
kept in hopeless bondage, years subsequent to the passing 
of the laws to free all. 

The marquis Di Trejico having the command of almost 
unlimited money — how acquired no one seemed to know — 
had immense influence. 

He was, it was presumed, invested with legal powers 
over the two co heiresses, or he would not so obviously 
exercise his power. 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 29 

But in relation to them existed some mystery which 
none ventured to fathom. 

The Marquis Di Trejico was not a person to be questioned, 
having certain antecedents which were not of a nature to 
encourage quarreling. 

Several persons who had offended him at hall, party, 
supper or gambling house, mysteriously died, their bodies 
being found in the streets pierced with dagger wounds. 

But no one had ventured in a city where assassination 
was more common than in Eome some few years ago, to 
lay any blame upon the superb and haughty marquis. 

Having so fortunately foiled, without exactly knowing 
it, the murderous intentions of their enemy, Charles and 
Arthur reached Mexico without further adventure, and 
took up their quarters in excellent apartments, kept, of 
course, by a Frenchman, and then at once proceeded to 
pay their respects to the excellent American envoy, whom 
we shall call Mr. Thompson. 

He was delighted at such a pleasing addition to his staff 
as the son of his old friend, Charles Leicester, and warmly 
welcomed his friend, or chum, as he called him, Arthur 
Denby. 

“ But,” said his excellency, a good-humored, keen man 
of the world, “I must say it puzzles me, what two such 
young ^arks as you can want out in this Heaven- forsaken 
land. The country is well enough, but what with revolu- 
tion, rebellions, misgovernment, tyranny, and ignorance, 
it is the last place I should select to reside in, except as a 
pure matter of business and duty.” 

The two young men exchanged an almost imperceptible 
smile. 

But the diplomatist was too quick for them. 

Ha — ha !” he cried ; “there is something below the sur- 
face. Don’t mind me, make a clean breast of it. You will 
be none the worse for the advice of an old stager.” 

“Mr. Thompson,” replied Charles, frankly, “I have too 
often heard my father speak of you, not to know your 
kindness of heart, so, if you will not laugh at me, I "will 
open my heart.” 

“ I will not laugh at you,” he answered, with something 
of a chuckle; “ so spin your yarn. You know I have been 
an old sailor.” 

Charles began, and not only did the gentleman not 
laugh, but listened with the utmost attention, nor inter- 
rupted once. 

“I am sorry,” he said, gravely, when the other had fin- 
ished, “that you should have anything to do with this 
Marquis Di Trejico, directly or indirectly. He is a man 
of whom no one speaks ill openly, but shrugs of shoul- 


30 


WIFE OR SLATE? 


ders. looks, and bints, go a long way. He is a man wholly 
without principle, of desperate fortunes, living, no one 
knows how.” 

“ Then how, sir, is he the guardian to these two charm- 
ing and beautiful girls?” asked Charles. 

“ Ah, me!” sighed the old bachelor, “so it was and ever 
will be, I suppose. The young will run after the young 
and beautiful. Of these ladies I know nothing, except that 
some vague mystery surrounds them, the nature of which 
I am unable to fathom.” 

“They are accomplished, beautiful, rich,” urged Charles 
Leicester. 

“ Yes— and yet — but I know nothing. Young men, you 
are not only embarked upon a wild-goose chase, but a very- 
dangerous one. You seem to me wholly to forget the dif- 
ference of religion. ” 

‘ ‘ I have already heard words from tbe lips of Miriam Di 
Lasso,” said Charles, firmly, “which leacl me to believe 
that she is not what she seems in that matter.” 

“Can that be the mystery?” cried Mr. Thompson; “and 
yet, no. Still it is worth thinking of ; in this extraordinary 
country no avowed heretic can succeed to property where 
there is a Catholic claimant. I see one thing, to argue 
with you is useless ; but take the advice of one older than 
yourselves, of a man of experience, whatever it is, you have 
a dangerous task before you. Your foe is rich, high in 
rank, unscrupulous. Be on your guard, and never be 
ashamed to invoke the protection of your country’s flag.” 

Both the young men promised faithfully to trust their 
master and friend, and the subject dropped. 

A week later, being at breakfast, the envoy held up a 
letter. 

“ What do you think this huge, official-looking document 
contains?” he asked, with a grim smile. 

“ I am not good at guessing,” replied Charles. 

“ Never was,” added Denby. 

‘ ‘ An invitation to a grand ball given to the Marquis Di 
Trejico on his return to Mexico. He incloses several cards 
for my staff and friends. Will you go?” 

The young men smiled at the simplicity of the question, 
and gladly accepted their several cards. 

“Of course, the marquis does not suspect,” said Mr. 
Thompson, smiling, ‘ ‘ that the sacred portals of the Amer- 
ican embassy shelter the persons of his dire foes. Will 
you take my advice?” 

“Certainly, sir.” 

“Go in uniform; you as an attache, Mr. Denby as lieu- 
tenaut-colonel. In this country embroidery and military 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


31 


coats go a long way, and besides, they are a protection, 
when American.” 

The young men readily agreed, and shortly after retired 
to compare notes. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE BALL AT THE PALACE TREJICO. 

There is no time in life so rosy, and yet so full of thorns, 
as that period when love holds sway over either the mas- 
culine or feminine mind, and yet the fruition of hope is 
either distant or doubtful. 

When the course of fancies and affection runs as smoothly 
as we could wish, when there are no evident stumbling- 
blocks in the way, even then the heart has its doubts, and 
the reflection that “there is many a slip between the cup 
and the lip ” intrudes itself upon the jealous affections. 

But when love is fierce, ardent, and at the same time al- 
most hopeless, the sting of pain far overpowers all thoughts 
of pleasure. 

Charles Leicester had conceived one of those sudden 
passions, which, if they were not sublime, would be ludi- 
crous. 

These rapid fancies too often fade away, and are looked 
upon with a smile. 

Not so in his case. 

Charles Leicester loved deeply, earnestly, in such a way 
that it was doubtful even if death or the uiiworthiness of 
the object would have disheartened him. 

The evening of the ball came, and the two young men, 
after a late dinner, were enjoying the luxury of a cigar on 
a balcony overlooking, not the street, but the courtyard of 
the house in which they resided. 

“ So you really mean to go?” observed Denby, assuming 
his most drawling tones and most affected manner. 

“ Of course I do,” cried Charles, impetuously. “ Do you 
not?” 

“Well, it's a great bore, you know. Imagine dancing 
on a hot night like this.” 

“ Hot!— why, it is quite cool,” said Charles, in a tone of 
deep vexation. “ But what do you mean? If you will not 
go, you know I cannot.” 

“There it is, always sacrificing myself on the altar of 
friendship,” drawled Denby. 

“You incorrigible humbug!” said Charles. “ I do be- 
lieve you are more eager to go than I am, and only want 
an excuse.” 

“ No, ’pon honor, Damon and Pythias, and all that sort 


82 WIFE OR SLAVE? 

of thing,” he answered. “But there, if we are going, we 
must dress.” 

And rising with an alacrity very much in contradiction 
with his previous nonchalance, he hurried away, placed 
himself under the hands of his valet, and was ready a 
quarter of an hour before his companion. 

It would have been difficult to have found two better 
specimens of the perfect and accomplished American gen- 
tleman, than were the young men, when they met and sur- 
veyed each other before starting. 

Charles, tall, well-made, of well-knit frame, with Ihs 
wavy chestnut hair, eyes that a woman might have envied, 
now soft and sweet, then fierce and piercing as a flash of 
cold steel; Arthur, delicate, of slender proportions, with 
straiglit hair, a florid complexion, and girlish, effeminate 
appearance, had a polished ease about him which had un- 
definable charms. 

Their names were on their cards, and thus armed — each 
carried a pocket pistol, and short Spanish dagger as well — 
they were taken to the Trejico palace in a close carriage. 

The splendid residence occupied by the marquis was, as 
usual, gloomy and dark on the side of the square, but the 
entrance was briliantly illuminated and surrounded by a 
host of link-bearers, servants, and others that kept up a 
continual hubbub and tumult. 

Passing through all these, the two guests came to a stair- 
case lined on each side- by fragrant shrubs, and lit up in 
gorgeous style. 

These they ascended by, in company with other guests, 
and thus reached the splendid suite of rooms given up to 
the terpsichorean art. 

Their cards were taken and their names shouted out in 
some incomprehensible style, after which they were free to 
roam at will. 

In a country celebrated for its riches, where at a wedding 
a bride has walked across the street to church on a row of 
solid ingots of gold, it may well be imagined that if there 
was a little show of refinement, there was magnificence and 
splendor. 

Dresses of the gorgeous kind, uniforms blazing with gold 
and embroidery, silks, satins, pearls, and precious stones 
dazzled the eye, while there was no want of beauty either 
on the part or the natives, or of the Spaniards, English and 
French. 

.But the two young men, who excited attention rather by 
the simplicity than by the richness of their dress, had no 
eyes for ordinary mortals. 

They were looking on all sides for Miriam and Maria Di 
Lasso, the lovely wards of the Marquis di Trejico^ whep 


WIFE OF SLAVE f 


83 


suddenly, to their surprise and gratification, they saw them 
standing under a kind of dais going through the form of 
introduction to several arrivals. 

Near them, in conversation, was their excellent friend 
Mr. Thompson, who seemed upon the most intimate terms, 
laughing and doing the gallant cavalier like the valiant old 
bachelor he was. 

They rapidly approached. 

Both watched the girls keenly, but though they looked 
at them, neither showed the faintest sign of recognition. 

‘‘I can’t make it out,” said Charles. 

“ Nor I,” said Arthur. 

Still, nothing venture, nothing have. 

“So you have come at last,” cried the minister, in his 
most jovial tone. “Here come my new staff, my Amadis of 
Gaul, my Sir Galaor ” he added, laughing, “ bent , I know, 
on being introduced to the twin queens of beauty.” 

‘ ‘ We shall be only too proud,’’ said the young men speak- 
ing in one breath. 

Both the girls now looked more attentively at them, and 
then went through the ceremony of introduction as if they 
had been entire strangers. 

Both had blushed a roseate hue as the gallant young 
Americans stooped and kissed their ungloved hands. 

“ Sanguedi Christo said a tall, saturnine -looking indi- 
vidual of about twenty-three, in the resplendent, yet 
tinsel, uniform of a colonel in the Mexican army; “who 
are those strangers who are making so free with my 
cousins?” 


“ Americans,” replied the person addressed, “ and friends 
of his Excellency Thompson. You can see by their uni- 
form, belonging to the embassy.” 

The second speaker was the marquis, who, accompanied 
by his son, was about to secure the hands of the heiresses 
for a brilliant quadrille which was about to commence. 

Too late ! 

Acting in his official capacity, and presuming somewhat 
on his age and station, Mr. Thompson had proposed that 
the “two handsomest couples” in the room should com- 
mence the quadrille, and as the music struck up, the mar- 
quis and the colonel had to stand on one side as the girls 
passed them closely, leaning on the arms of the two young 
gentlemen in uniform. 

A terrific execration escaped the lips of the marquis as 
they passed. 

“What is the matter, father mine?” asked the saturnine 
and yellow-looking colonel. “ You seem to have trod on a 
scorpion.” 

“ M/ demoniosT hissed the marquis, livid with rage, 


34 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


his teeth chattering with excess of rage. ‘‘By all the 
fiends of the lower regions, ’tis they again. May I ask, 
Senor Thompson,” he added, toning down his passionate 
voice, “if you know the two Caballeros who have just 
made so free with my wards?” 

“They are American gentlemen,” said the bluff old 
sailor; “my friends, and one is my attache. Both are 
specially under my guardianship.” 

“Many thanks to your excellency. I only wanted to 
know if they were fit and proper persons to associate 
with my wards and nieces,” replied the master of the 
house, and drew his son away to a dark corner where they 
could see without being seen, and speak without being 
overheard. 

“ What ails you?” asked Count Luis, bluntly. “ Again, 
have you been bitten?” 

“You recollect the two young men I spoke of?” responded 
his father. 

“Yes.” 

“ You behold them. The fellow I thought I had got rid 
vof in Eome, who made an appointment with Miriam. See,” 
be added, in a choked voice, “how she hangs on his arm, 
looks up with innocent abandon into his eyes, smiles celes- 
tially at his words, harkens to his voice as if it were the 
sweet music of the spheres.’* 

“ Eather unpleasant fov one who loves so deeply and so 
hopelessly as you do,” sneered Count Luis. 

“Spare your sarcasms, boy,” was the cold and savage 
reply. “ Did Maria glance, ever laugh, like that to you?” 
he added, as he slightly indicated, by a motion of his hand, 
where Denby and Maria were approaching. 

Count Luis looked and saw enough to drive one of his 
jealous disposition half mad. 

Maria De Floria Di Lasso, who was by nature of a more 
merry and light-hearted disposition than her sister, ap- 
proached, leaning on the arm of the young officer. 

She was dressed in some rich material that partially re- 
vealed her budding charms. 

She wore a wreath of beautiful flowers, and from under- 
neath the flimsy veil, which this supported, the laughing 
black eyes were flashing, while from her lips floated a rip- 
ple of merry laughter, at some speech from the young 
American. 

“I do believe, in all sober sadness,” she said, in tones 
that thrilled to the very heart of the jealous count, “ that 
you northerners are greater adepts in the art of flattery 
than even our southern youths. Why travel so far to tell 
such absurd falsehoods in a woman’s ear? Could you not 
find one credulous enough at home?” 


WlFld on SLAVE f §6 

never tried,” replied Denby, with an earnest simplic- 
ity which was almost comical. “ I never flatter, and you 
are the first of your sex who ever roused me into paying a 
compliment as deserved as it is truthful.” 

And they passed on, light hearted, and to all appear- 
ances very happy. 

“Already,” said the Count Luis; “ why, demonio, I could 
never get a smile, much less a laugh from my demure cous- 
in. What can it all mean?” ! 

“It means that we must shilly shally no longer,” said [ 
the marquis, in a hoarse tone. “This very night shall 
those rebels be taught who are their masters. Do you 
know if Father Joseph can be found, and the writer, An- 
dreas?” 

“ Certainly,” answered Count Luis; “ but those insolent 
foreigners?” 

“ Had better be left alone,” moodily responded the mar- 
quis. “The arm of America is uncommonly long, and 
that pragmatical fool, Mr. Thompson, gave me a hint that 
those insolent boys were friends of his.” 

“ Curse them!” 

“To my heart’s content,” continued the marquis, “but 
now dissemble; mingle with the throng, and above all, do 
nothing to arouse any suspicion in the minds of the girls.” 

With a muttered curse upon all procrastination, the 
young man yielded, and when, from the exigencies of eti- 
quette, the young Americans were compelled to give up the 
society of their partners, he advanced and secured the 
hand of Maria for a dance. 

The gloom which settled on her face, the cold, trite an- 
swers she gave him, and the utter cold nonchalance with 
which she danced, were daggers to his heart. 

“ How different,” he said, bitterly, “you are with me to 
what you were just now with that foolish young Ameri- 
can.” ' 

“ He is a good dancer and a courteous gentleman,” she 1 
replied, as she disengaged her arm from his, and coldly ' 
bowing, went to rejoin her sister. 

If looks could have slain, then the girl would have died 
on the spot, for never did menacing scowl more concen- 
trated and hateful fall from the brow of man. 

He could contain his passion no longer, so beat a hasty 
retreat; nor returned to the ball-room until just as the 
company was dispersing at an early hour in the morning. 

Miriam and Maria, who, though very much pleased with 
certain incidents of the evening, were anxious, having 
seen the last guest depart, retreated to a sitting-room where 
they could compare notes. 

They were by no means tired, and the expected refresh- 


^6 . WIFE OR SLAVE? 

ment of a cup of chocolate was exceedingly welcome in 
prospect. 

“ I have had a long and happy evening,” said Miriam, 
warmly, and then she added, with a sigh: ‘‘ How will it 
end?” 

“ I really don’t know,” replied Maria. “Heigho! these 
Americans are very enterprising. This friend of your 
friend said more to me than a Mexican would dare on a 
year’s acquaintance.” 

‘‘Well,” said Miriam, “ I must own that the young gen- 
tlemen are rather forward, but alas ! must we not end this 
folly? I love this fair foreigner, this brave and handsome 
son of Columbia, and yet, what avails it?” 

“Much,” answered Maria, warmly. “If they prove 
worthy of us, what is there to prevent us marrying them?” 

“ Us !” cried Miriam. “ Marrying them? Are you, too, 
affected?” 

“I didn’t say that,” replied the honest girl, with a 
roseate blush; “ but if this young American means all he 
says, I am afraid I shall not have the heart to be cruel.” 

And she laughed so heartily, so merrily, so innocently, 
it was a pleasure to hear her. 

“ My dear Maria,” said her graver and more thoughtful 
sister, “ I do believe these young men to be worthy of our 
affection ; but for all that, how can we marry them? If we 
were wholly free, instead of the slaves of this man,” she 
added, bitterly, “ could we? Do you forget all?” 

“I forget everything,” replied Maria, rousing herself, 
with all the ardor of her somewhat tropical nature, “ex- 
cept that I love.” 

“Whom?” said the bitter and caustic voice of Count 
Luis. 

He and his father stood before them. 

“Why at sucli an hour an invasion of our privacy?” 
asked Miriam, haughtily, rising to her feet. 

“A truce to heroics,” said the marquis, with a sneer; 
“we have seen and heard enough to-night. Your brazenly 
impudent conduct with these two heretic foreigners has 
not passed unnoticed, and I have determined to end such 
unmaidenly conduct. I intend to place it out of your 
power to flirt with such leperos again.” 

“ How?” asked Miriam, caustically. 

“ By wedding you to those to whom you have been prom- 
ised for years,” he answered; “prepare yourselves. In 
one hour you will be my wife, while Maria, here, will be 
the slave of my son.” 

“Never!” was the response; “better death than such 
foul contamination.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 37 

The two men drew back with an angry start, a dark and 
menacing frown on their hard and saturnine faces. 

“ Before the day dawns,” retorted tlie marquis, “ Father 
Joseph Avill be here with the writer Andreas. You know 
that resistance will be useless, so, prepare yourselves for 
that which is inevitable. You never leave this room alive 
except as the brides of the Marquis Trejico, and the Count 
Luis, his son.” 

‘‘ Before you retire,” said Miriam, scornfully, will yon 
order our maids to bring us our chocolate, for which we 
have been waiting this half-hour?” 

‘ ‘ Certainly,” replied the marquis, who thought them com- 
pletely cowed. 

As soon as their backs were turned, Miriam turned to 
Maria. 

“We have one only hope,” she said, as she hurriedly 
wrote a note, “unless, indeed, this letter reaches its desti- 
nation in time. ” 

And she hurriedly wrote a few lines and addressed them, 
tjung the letter with a colored ribbon, and fastening it 
with wax. 

Scarcely had she finished, when one of the duennas and 
two maids entered with the varied apparatus necessary for 
the making of good chocolate. 

While the domestics Avere occupied, Miriam drew the 
duenna aside. 

“ Garcia,” she said, “I am in great peril. On your soul, 
by the religion you believe in, I beg you to do what you 
can to save me. Nothing can do it but the delivery of 
this letter.” 

And she read out the name and address. 

The duenna heard her with simple awe, not unmingled 
with a gleam of satisfaction. 

“I will cany the letter myself and deliver it into his 
own hands. He has been up, this hour, the holy man,” she 
said. 

And Avhen the chocolate Avas ready, she retired with the 
attendants. 

“And now, Maria, as you love yourself and me, have 
courage. Observe all I do or say, and hold out ; nothing 
else can save us,” she earnestly added, 

“I will do all things that you do,” replied Maria, who 
had great confidence in her sister. 

They calmly took their chocolate, and when the hour 
had expired, calmly waited the crisis of their fate. 

A clock struck tAventy-two, equivalent to our six o’clock 
in the morning. 

At this precise moment the marquis and count, with 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


Maffei and another confederate servant, entered, followed 
by the w^riter Andreas and the priest, Father Joseph. 

The writer, who had several documents in his hand, 
seated himself at a table and began to read out what pur- 
ported to be two brief marriage contracts. 

“You are wasting your time,” said Miriam; “ we refuse 
to be married, and appeal to you, as the representative of 
the law of the land, to do your duty.” 

“ He knows his duty too well to listen to the vagaries of 
two foolish girls,” interrupted the marquis, sternly. 
“ Father Joseph, commence.” 

The priest opened his book. 

“ Father Joseph, on the peril of your soul, pause,” said 
Miriam, solemnly. “ I and my sister are heretics.” 

The priest dropped his book and crossed himself. 

“ A wicked lie!” screamed the marquis, “invented to 
deceive you. They have ever been of the true church, 
and have never departed from it. Do not mind the silly 
subterfuge. It is a mere trick to defeat my views. ” 

The priest at once recovered his presence of mind, picked 
up the book, and proceeded to mumble over some words in 
Latin, which to the girls had really no meaning. 

“ Once for all,” said Miriam, in an earnest and solemn 
tone, “I warn you to desist. If you lend yourself to the 
base uses of this man, who has no claim on our affection 
or duty, I will expose your nefarious deed on the house- 
tops ; I will proclaim your guilt in the market-place. ” 

“I will see that you are held harmless,” cried the mar- 
quis. ‘ ‘ Proceed. ” 

“ Aye, proceed!” said the count. 

Miriam and Maria drew back and turned away. 

“ ’Tisa vain, idle and wicked ceremony,” cried thefoim- 
er, “ and will bring infamy on all concerned in it.” 

But the priest again commenced, the men advancing, 
and by sheer physical force holding the hands of their un- 
fortunate victims. 

With a look of bitter scorn on their faces, the girls tried 
to wrench themselves away. 

At this moment the door of the chamber opened, and a 
soft but commanding voice spoke : 

“ What means this sacrilege?” 

The three men stood aghast, for there, in full canonicals, 
stood the Archbishop of Mexico, a stern but good man, to 
whom the girls had sent a petition for assistance. 

The miserable priest fell on his knees, and began to im- 
plore pardon in the most abject of tones. 

“You are suspended until further orders,” said the 
bishop; “and you, rash men, shall be dealt with by the 
proper authorities. Let the girls,” he added, to some one 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


89 


Outside, “ be taken to the Benedictine convent; the Lady 
Superior Anna will answer for them.” 

And two sisters of charity, advancing to where they 
stood, led the unresisting young ladies out of the room. 

“ By what authority,” began the Marquis Di Trejico, in 
a blustering tone, “does your reverence interfere in my 
affairs?” 

‘ ‘ By the right which every man possesses to protect in- 
nocence and virtue from villainy and oppression,” replied 
the archbishop. 

And without another word, he strode out, leaving the 
marquis and his son overwhelmed with rage and mortifica- 
tion. 

“ Do you mean to succumb to this insolent churchman?” 
asked the count. 

“No; but we must be wary and cautious. You know 
how powerful he is,” answered the marquis, somberly. 

“But how release them from the convent?” continued 
the count. 

“I will soon see to that,” replied his father, with a 
sinister smile ; and then he unfolded his plans, which, 
while exciting the astonishment of the other, also met 
with his perfect approval. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A FOUL DEED. 

The marquis and his son, as soon as they recovered from 
the sudden blow inflicted on them by the startling and un- 
expected appearance of the archbishop, and his removal of 
their intended victims to the charge of mother church, 
began to reflect deeply on the situation. 

There is no country in the world where the church has 
more power than Mexico. 

It is richly endowed, it owns real estates, and wields its 
thunderbolts without stint or fear. 

Openly to oppose the church would have been madness, 
and this they knew well, but money and chicanery go a 
great way in a country so ignorant and benighted. 

As guardian of the girls, the marquis could have invoked 
the protection of the law; but there was a secret in the 
history of the nobleman and the girls, which rendered any 
appeal to the law on his part undesirable. 

There is said to be a skeleton in every household, which 
every now and then starts into being. 

Few suspected the terrible nature of the one which made 
the life of the marquis, despite his apparent rank and 
wealth, a burden to him. 

They, therefore, determined to act with great circuim 


40 


WIPE on SLAVE f 


spection and care, and try to put off all suspicion from 
themselves, and fix it upon others. 

The day after the events recorded in our last chapter, 
Charles Leicester and Denby called upon the marquis. 

With fury in his heart, and a smile on his lips, the mar- 
quis received them. 

After some ordinary conversation having no particular 
interest for any one, Charles came to the point. 

“ Shall we have the pleasure of paying our respects to 
the young ladies?” he asked. 

The marquis looked pained and hurt on hearing the 
question. 

“ I am sorry to say that the two misguided girls have re- 
moved themselves from our guardianship,” he said, with a 
sigh. 

^‘Left you!” cried Charles. 

The young man’s tones and looks expressed the utmost 
surprise. 

“ Yes; and we have no clew to their whereabouts, except 
that they have secreted themselves in one of the many con- 
vents of our city.” 

“ Is not this very sudden and unexpected?” asked Charles. 

“Very much so,” replied the Marquis; “but doubtless 
they have been acting under foolish advice.” 

Tlie young Americans arose, and bowing, retired. 

They were not in the mood for further conversation with 
these men, whom they believed to conceal something sinis- 
ter under their affectation of blandness and candor. 

“ What is your opinion, Denby?” asked Leicester, as soon 
as they were beyond reach of the other’s ears. 

“That there is a considerable screw loose somewhere,” 
said Denby. “ I don’t like the looks of those two fellows.” 

“ What is to be done?” asked Charles, who was very much 
excited. 

Each day his warm and earnest passion for Miriam in- 
creased, each hour she became dearer and dearer to him. 

“ I scarcely know what to advise. If the young ladies 
have taken refuge in a convent, it must be because they have 
been subjected to some coercion or ill-treatment,” mused 
Denby. “ I should like to cut the count’s ears off.” 

“ Perhaps they have had them moved somewhere out of 
our reach,” continued Charles; “ at all events we must de- 
vote ourselves to a search. In tlie interest of humanity, 
apart from our private feelings, we are called on to seek 
for them.” 

“In the interest of humanity, of course,” said Denby. 

Without much further conversation thej^ returned to 
their own residence, and after some little time sent for the 
landlord, a podgy, good-humored little Frenchman. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


41 


“I am about, sir,” said Charles, speaking in his softest 
and most diplomatic tones, and addressing the other in 
French, ‘‘to give you a great proof of confidence.” 

“It will not be wrongly placed, monsieur,” said Jules 
Dubois, placing his hand upon his chest and bowing pro- 
foundly. 

“Sit down. Monsieur Dubois; half confidences are of no 
use. We must tell you everything,” remarked Charles. 

The man was noted for his honesty, and his hotel was 
looked upon as the best in all Mexico city. 

Charles told the whole story. 

The Frenchman brightened up. 

It was a matter of great importance, and moreover, it 
was a love case, and what Frenchman does not sympathize 
with anything connected, however remotely, with the woes 
of the heart? 

“In what way can I serve you?” he asked. 

“ I suppose, residing here so long as you have done,” said 
Charles, “ you will be able to advise us. We wish the serv- 
ices of a trusty and clever detective.” 

“Humph!” mused M. Dubois, ‘‘ you must not look for 
such a one among the yellows.” 

“ But Avhy?” 

“They are dishonest. They stick together. You are 
what they call here iss. They would take your money and 
betray you,” he replied. “But there is at the French em- 
bassy a garcon just your style. He knows everything, and 
though he is a courier now, he has been in the police.” 

“An honest, trustworthy man?” asked Charles Leices- 
ter. 

“ True as steel. He is your man.” 

“ When will you introduce him?” the other continued. 

‘ ‘ To night ; at six o’clock he is done with his business, 
and comes to play dominoes and smoke his trabuco here,” 
replied Dubois. 

“ We wiU see him at eight,” continued Charles, “we have 
business at the embassy at six.” 

And so it was settled. 

A long and wearisome day was that day for Charles and 
Denby. 

Little as they knew of the girls, they had wound them- 
selves around their hearts in a marvelous way. 

They were so pure and innocent, so elevated in charac- 
ter, so far superior to the ordinary run of girls. 

Well, perhaps they were not so; but to them the sweet 
dream, the soft delusion was the same. 

If we do not think the girl we love far beyond any other 
sex, what would love be? 


42 WIFE OR SLAVE f 

When we see with the eyes of passion the tint is wonder- 
fully beautiful. 

What had happened to them? 

Into what pitfall had they fallen? 

They had an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Thompson, 
and told him all. 

“Convents,” he said, dryly; “don’t you have anything 
to do with convents — anything hut that. The power of 
the church is something wonderful.” 

“But if we trace them to any of these retreats, will you 
not help us with the archbishop?” asked Charles, eagerly. 

“My boy, you are treading upon dangerous ground. 
You are heretics, without the pale of the church. The 
archbishop is a very good man, but then, you see, he will 
not help you to carry off two Eoman Catholic heiresses.” 

“They; are not Catholics,” replied Charles. 

The minister gave a start. 

“My friends,” he said, gravely, “ beware what you do. 
As defaulters from their own church, they may be pun- 
ished, and your pursuit will only injure them. You must 
be cautious, very cautious. I can defend you from open 
foes; but in the land of stillettos, you know not what may 
happen at any moment.” 

As the envoy was very stern and serious, they urged him 
no longer, but left him immediately after dinner to go to 
the meeting with the detective. 

Theodore Delcroix, the honest ex-police agent, now courier 
to the French embassy, was a little man with a knotty 
countenance, thin, with ferrety eyes, and sharpness to be 
read in every feature ; but the whole was concealed under 
a mask of bonhomie that deceived all but the initiated. 

He was introduced by Dubois, and left then to his own 
devices. 

“ You are aware, sir,” said Theodore, gravely, when the 
other had finished, “that the Marquis Trejico does not 
bear the best of characters.” 

“ In what way?” 

“He is a gambler — that, in Mexico, is nothing; he is a 
roiee— most men of means are ; and he has an unpleasant 
way of putting his adversaries out of his way,” he an- 
swered. 

“The pay shall be in proportion to the risk,” said 
Charles, with something like a sneer. 

“ I am not speaking for myself,” mildly responded the 
Frenchman. ‘ ‘ I shall work in a way not to compromise nay- 
self ; but if he finds you are moving, look out. In Mexico 
city there are hundreds who would poniard you for a dol- 
lar.” 

“ We will keep on our guard,” remarked Charles. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


43 


Your first desire is to know if two young ladies answer- 
ing the description you have given me, have been removed 
to any convent?” asked Theodore Delcroix. 

“ Exactly.” 

“ I don’t think that will he difficult,” he observed; “ Our 
chaplain is on good terms with a certain father, who, it 
seems to me, knows everything, and these being ladies of 
rank and fashion, he will know.” 

“ Probably ,” said Charles, putting a purse of Mexican 
dollars on the table; “spare no expense, and above all, be 
secret.” 

The Frenchman smiled and bowed low as he took his 
leave. 

It was twelve o’clock, just as the young men were taking 
their last cigar, that a note was put in the hands of Charles. 

“ The young ladies were removed at daybreak yesterday 
to the convent of the Benedictine Ladies, by order of the 
Archbishop of Mexico.” 

“What can this mean?” asked Charles, in a wildly 
anxious tone. 

“Rather mysterious, I must say,” observed Denby, 
“ and I do not see exactly what is to be done.” 

“We must apply for permission to see them,” said 
Charles, “and then ascertain their own wishes.” 

This was very easy to say, but both asked themselves in 
their own miiid if, in that extraordinary country, they 
would be able to. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DETECTIVE AT WORK. 

What the real religious opinions of an ex-police agent of 
the Rue de Jerusalem in Paris may have been it would 
have been hard work to say. 

It is sufficient for our purpose that he was on very 
friendly terms with the chaplain and confessor of the em- 
bassy, one of those jovial-hearted men who seem born to 
enjoy themselves. 

The man stoutly did his duty, and then believed himself 
free to amuse himself. 

He would remove most traces of his clerical habiliments, 
and adjourn to a favorite cafe, where he could play a 
game, smoke his pipe, and enjoy his mild Bordeaux with- 
out fear of interruption. 

In a country where priests go to the theater and openly 
play in gambling houses, he need have shown no modesty 
in the matter, but he did. 

Still more jovial and rather more inclined to the strong 
brandy of the country was Father Joseph, and these twa 


44 


WIFE OR slave? 


having knocked up a friendship, were in the habit of meet- 
ing every evening at a quiet coffee-house, frequented by 
Theodore and others belonging to the embassy. 

Theodore was always the lire and soul of the party, and 
very free with his money. 

He entered gayly on this occasion, and saluting the 
priests, sat down near them. 

He joined in the conversation, laughed, joked, and 
finally played a game or two. 

“Have you heard,” he said, suddenly, in a low tone, 
“ the very serious and dreadful news?” 

“No,” cried the chaplain, startled by his sad mien; 
“ what is it?” 

“The two wards of the celebrated Marquis of Trejioo 
have eloped with some heretic lovers. Their fortunes and 
everything are lost to the church,” he continued, shaking 
his head. 

“Dreadful,” said the chaplain, with a look of genuine and 
pious horror. “How can it have happened?” 

“ I have no particulars,” responded Theodore, who had 
seen a sudden gleam in the countenance of Father Joseph ; 
“but I had hoped you vrould be able to say it was not true.” 

“This is the first I have heard of it! As you say, it is 
very sad; but what can you expect when heretics are 
received with such favor?” replied the chaplain, going on 
with his game at the same time. 

“ Set your mind at ease,” whispered Father Joseph, in a 
low tone; “ the young ladies are quite safe. I saw them 
carried off yesterday morning to the convent of the Bene- 
dictines. The whole thing is a false rumor.” 

Both the chaplain and the courier expressed their satis- 
faction at this information, and the subject was dropped. 

Shortly after Theodore retired, and sent his laconic 
missive to liis employer. 

Early next morning he was required at the embassy, he 
hurried around, and as he expected, found the young 
Americans up. 

Without hesitation or disguise, he explained how he had 
made his discovery. 

They thanked him heartily, and bade him keep on qui 
vive. 

They were now in possession of one important fact. 

They knew where the two young ladies were immured, 
but it still remained a question as to why they had been 
placed in a convent. 

This they could not for the life of them explain. 

It did not appear likely that the marquis would willingly 
part with his wards, while, knowing their private views, 


WIFE Oil SLAVE? 45 

it appeared impossible that the girls had voluntarily im- 
mured themselves within convent walls. 

I should like to get hold of that Father Joseph,” mused 
Charles. 

“ To what end? He naturally enough healed the tender- 
hearted conscience of our friend Theodore,” said Denby; 
“ but he would tell us nothing.” 

‘ ‘ These fellows are very badly paid, ” urged Charles ; ‘ ' do 
you not think that they have their price?” 

“ Good job I thought of securing a good banking account,” 
observed his friend with a smile. 

“Yes; now, suppose Ave try the archbishop?’ continued 
Charles. 

“ No harm in trying,” said Denby, dryly. 

A letter was accordingly written, and then both the 
young gentlemen drove to the archiepiscopal palace. 

The letter Avas placed in the hands of a kind of secre- 
tary, and then they were ushered into a large Avaiting 
room. 

In less than ten minutes the secretary returned and 
bade them folio av him to the presence of the distinguished 
prelate. 

He received them Avith marked courtesy, and waving 
all ceremony, at once asked in Avhat Avay he could oblige 
them. 

“ Your highness,” said Charles, speaking with that quick 
eloquence of the heart which lowers all obstacles, “ doubt- 
less you will frown at our seeming impertinence, and laugh 
at the motive Avhich impels us.” 

“I never laugh at anybody,” replied the priest, mildly; 
“ speak.” 

“We are Protestants, of a different form of Christianity 
to what you teach, and yet Ave come Avith confidence to 
you to ask your advice and counsel,” cried Charles. 

There was a tremor in the old man’s lips, a quiver on his 
face, nothing more. 

“ I love a beautiful and charming girl; I Avish to make 
her my Avife,” urged Charles. 

“Well,” said the priest, now speaking Avith studied cool- 
ness. 

“ This young lady is Miriam Di Lasso, ward of the Mar- 
quis Di Trejico,” continued the attache; “we called yes- 
terday to see them, and were told they had left the 
charge. We happened to know that they are in the 
convent of the !^nedictine Ladies, under your jurisdic- 
tion.” 

The swarthy face of the Mexican priest then became 
crimson. 

“ How could you have known this?” he began, and then 


46 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


added: “it matters little, however. You know where 
they are — what then?” 

“We wish to have free access there, to see them, to learn 
their wishes,” cried Charles. 

“ Young men,” said the prelate, after a slight moment of 
reflection, “ you are rash, impetuous, and thoughtless ; but 
you are young. My advice to you would be, leave the 
country; you are entering on a foolish and perilous enter- 
prise, which may end badly.” 

“We will brave everything for those we love!” cried 
Charles. 

“Hush! talk not to me of such mundane passions,” 
said the priest, whose haggard eyes and features seemed 
to indicate long struggles with nature and passion. “ You 
will not take my advice; I knew it. You shall have per- 
mission to see these girls, in the presence of the superior. ” 

“Many thgjhks, your eminence!” both cried. 

And led away by their enthusiasm, they each caught a 
hand and kissed it. 

The old man smiled. 

His was a noble mind and good heart, warped only by 
circumstances over which he had no control. 

He then went to his desk and wrote a brief and impera- 
tive missive. 

He let them read it. 

They were to have an hour’s unreserved communication 
with the two senoritas, Miriam and Maria Di Lasso, the 
superior only to be present. 

Then the young men retired, and hurried off to the con- 
vent, which was at no great distance. 

They might have been surprised to see what the arch- 
bishop did. 

Going to the back of his room, he pressed a panel, which 
opened upon a long, narrow passage, at the end of which 
was a heavy iron door. 

Here he rang a bell, and soon, after some little parley, 
was admitted to the convent of the Benedictine ladies, of 
which he was the chaplain and father confessor. 

He rapidly reached the superior’s room, and after a short 
conversation with a stout but asceticdooking old lady, re- 
turned to his own palace. 


CHAPTER X. 

AN INTERVIEW AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

The two young men soon alighted at the door of the con- 
vent^ and passing through the crowd of beggars and other 
applicants, entered the open court, beyond which the or- 


MUFE OR ^LAYEf 47 

dinary class of visitors are not admitted, and rang the 
bell. 

A female portress came to a small trap and surveyed the 
visitors. 

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she said stiffly, 
as she became aware of the presence of two handsorne 
young men. 

“ Two gentlemen, with a letter from his eminence the 
archbishop,” replied Charles. 

The door opened like magic, the woman took the letter, 
and bidding them be seated, turned away to deliver the 
important missive. 

She did not return at once, but when she did, was very 
respectful, as she bade them follow to the parlor. 

It was a handsome room, furnished, however, in a se- 
vere style, in which sat the superior alone. 

She motioned them to a seat without rising, and looked 
at them with anything but a favorable eye. 

“You have orders,” she began, tapping her left hand 
with the bishop’s letter and with a fan, “to see two young 
ladies under my especial charge. May I ask your mo- 
tives?” 

“We explained them fully to the archbishop,” said 
Charles Leicester, who did not like her stern and caustic 
manner. 

“Enough,” she continued, tartly; “his orders shall be 
obeyed.” 

And she rang a bell, gave some orders, and in a few 
minutes Miriam and Maria appeared. 

Their heads were bowed, and it was almost a cry of ter- 
ror they uttered when they recognized their visitors. 

They glanced meaningly at the superior, and then held 
out their hands. 

“Why are you here?” asked Miriam, coldly. “This is 
no place for you.” 

“We heard you were relegated to this convent, and came 
to inquire if you had been brought against your consent,” 
continued Charles. 

“We came here at our own request and desire,” said 
Miriam, looking the young gentleman full in the face, “to 
escape dire persecution, a fate worse than death.” 

“Ly your own consent?” faltered Charles, while Denby 
looked utterly confused and confounded. 

“ Yes ; and the best thing that can happen to us just now 
is to remain here,” began Miriam. 

“ But you ” he interrupted. 

His back was turned to the lady superior, and he inter- 
cepted her view. 


49 WIFE OR SLAVE? 

Miriam, with a terror-stricken face, put her finger on her 
lips. 

Evidently she was warning him to be cautious. , 

Charles changed the subject to the question of their gen- 
eral health, and desired to know when they could pay an- 
other visit. 

“The same day, the same hour, once a week,” said the 
* superioress. 

^ As nothing could be got further by delay, and to sit there 
with bursting hearts was out of the question, the young 
men arose, and offered their hands to the young ladies. 

Charles felt a little packet rest in his, and at once se- 
cured it. 

The head sister watched them with a supercilious smile, 
and yet that woman had taken the vows because the man 
she loved had married for money. 

The two young men thanked the superioress and went 
out. 

It was only when in the carriage Charles eagerly opened 
the letter. 

“I have only time to say that you had better give up all 
thought of us. We have escaped a dire destiny, only to 
fall into one nearly as bad. We are too rich for the church 
to part with us ; we shall never leave this convent except 
as the wives of Catholics— that or the veil. 

’“Miriam and Maria.” 


They gazed wildly at the letter. 

Could such a thing be? 

“ Surely tliat noble old man was not deceiving us,” cried 
Charles. 

“There is something wrong somewhere,” said Denby. 
“We must carry them off.” 

“ From that dreadful prison?” replied Charles. 

! “ Such things have been done,” responded Denby. “We 

must consult our Fi*ench friend.” 

At the request of the landlord, Theodore came around 
again, and a further conference was held. 

“ The only one thing to be said is,” he remarked, coolly, 
“ they are not nuns. In this country sacrilege is punished 
with awful severity. But I don’t see my way.” 

“Five thousand dollars,” said Charles, who had pre- 
viously consulted with his friend, “if you bring about 
their release and escape from this country.” 

The Frenchman started. 

He had saved money during his checkered career, but 
five-and-twenty thousand francs was a sum which almost 
took away his breath. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


49 


It would enable him to retire on his small property near 
Marseilles, and do no work for the rest of his life. 

“ You are generous, gentlemen,” he said, warmly, “ and 
I will do much to serve you. I must reconnoiter.” 

Would money to buy assistance help you?” said 
Charles. 

‘‘ I do not know. There is one priest I am sure could be 
bought for a chanson—^ song, as you say ; but when he is 
bought, can he be trusted?” he mused. ‘‘ Never mind, I 
will reflect on the matter and see what can be done.” 

And after one or two more words the plucky little 
Frenchman retired to plot an undertaking which if unsuc- 
cessful, might cost him his life. 

“This is getting very exciting,” said Denby, as he sank 
back in his chair, and began puffing away at a cigar. 

“ But is your heart in it?” asked Charles, anxiously. 

“ Yes,” replied Denby, with unusual gravity of manner. 

“ Ever since I saw them in that terrible room, like two 
caged birds, my heart aches. Poor girls !” 

“ They are wretched, no doubt, and cannot speak frank- 
ly,” mused Charles. “I fancy what they feared was any 
allusion to their recent apostacy.” 

“That is it. Anything else might be forgiven,” cried 
Denby, warmly; “ the sooner we get them out the better.” 

“ And then?” 

“Why, we must marry and rum away. The chaplain, 
will do all that sort of thing, and law will strip their 
guardian of his usurped rights !” exclaimed Denby. 

“I would only too gladly release them, without one 
thought of their fortunes,” said Charles. 

“Of course; but the rascal shall not triumph. Besides, 
for the sake of our friends in New York, we must not take 
penniless brides.” 

“ Heaven grant we win them at all,” said Charles, anx- 
iously. 

“Amen,” replied Denby. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE COUNTERPLOT. 

Meanwhile, neither the marquis nor the count had been 
idle. 

After some thought they had made up their minds 
to a scheme which would have amazed their American 
rivals. 

That very ev-oning the two were seated in company with 
Father Joseph. 

This individual was of evil repute enough, and having 


50 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


fallen under the displeasure of the archbishop, would be 
only too glad to leave the city of Mexico. 

He therefore agreed, for a liberal sum of money, to 
aid them in an enterprise, for a man in his position truly 
nefarious. 

Nothing less than to assist in a forcible abduction from 
the convent. 

The city of Mexico, after eight o’clock in the evening, is 
abandoned to thieves and other bad characters. 

No others venture out, except in carriages or with an 
escort. 

Bold and audacious enterprises are therefore not impos- 
sible. 

Father Joseph had agreed to obtain admission into the 
convent, if the others took all other responsibility. 

As the father and son were desperate, there was no des- 
perate remedy they were not ready to resort to. 

They rightly judged that the whole influence of the 
American embassy, and Mexico was anxious just then to 
be in favor with America, would be brought to bear to re- 
lease the two girls and have them handed over to those 
who wished to make them their wives. 

There were secrets in the lives of the marquis and vis- 
count which rendered it extremely unadvisable that their 
conduct should reach a court of law. 

The eminent prelate who ruled in Mexico was a man so 
well known for his justice and piety that they had little to 
expect from him. 

He might do all in his power, honestly and fairly, to keep 
the girls within the pale of the church, but if they insisted 
on their undoubted right of selection, he would not make 
himself a tyrant. 

Those who departed from the church of their ancestors 
were few in that land, but were under the protection of the 
Protestant powers. 

In every way there was no time to lose. 

After an interview with Maffei, their course of action 
was decided on. 

In Mexco city there is a large population very much re- 
sembling that of Naples, who live no one knows how or on 
what. 

They are simply vagrants, who, so long as they can get 
a bare supply of food and drink, and a few coppers to 
gamble with, are perfectly satisfied- 

Work is one of those things which they despise. 

How, then, do they live? 

By petty larceny, by crime of a more or less heinous 
kind. 

This population, which is only occasionally seen in tlxe 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 61 

daytime, is in its glory at night, when it turns out in great 
force. 

You are sure,” said the marquis, when he had elabo- 
rated his nefarious plot with Maffei, “that you can collect 
together enough men who can be trusted ?” 

“Si, senor,” grinned Maffei; “I could find fifty who 
would kill your excellency for a dollar.” 

“ I am aware of it,” dryly replied the marquis, gravely; 
“ but sacrilege is infinitely worse than murder!” 

‘ ‘ I am aware of it, so these gentry may probably require 
double pay,” continued Maffei; “only leave everything to 
me.” 

“I know I can trust you,” said the marquis, “so shall 
leave everything in your hands.” 

“ Then if your excellency will be at the Eio Alta at eleven, 
all shall be ready,” observed Maffei, and retired. 

“ We are risking our heads,” said the son, when alone 
with his father. 

“ I tell you,” replied the marquis, “ that things are com- 
ing to a head. Unless we can secure the persons of the 
girls, we are ruined — utterly ruined. They can easily ex- 
plain all when once they are free.” 

“ Have we not the estates, and have we not a hostage?” 
replied his son. 

“Yes, we have the estates, but if these girls find power- 
ful friends,” he went on, “how long shall we be able 
to say so? We are safe only while they are in our pos- 
session.” 

‘ You intend, then, leaving Mexico?” his son asked, in 
rather a gloomy tone. 

“Yes; once at the Aranja, in the midst of our own 
people, what can they do? All around are our dependents 
and friends,” mused the marq^uis. “Leave the rest to me.” 

They now dropped the subject and went out to show 
themselves among their friends, in order to be ready with 
an alibi in case of necessity. 

It was at eleven at night that the two men sallied forth 
from their residence, disguised in cloaks and slouched 
hats. 

They were mounted on horseback, and followed by six 
men, also mounted and well armed. 

The streets were silent and abandoned. 

No one except the police and those who had nothing to 
lose ever ventured away from the center of the town at 
that hour. 

The police were usually in the guard houses, the riff-raff 
in their wine shops. 

No one took notice of the cavalcade as it passed. 

When close to the Eio .Mto, the marquis and count dis- 


52 


WIFE OR SLAVED 


mounted and sent their horses to a point of the road beyond 
the Benedictine convent, leading to Sonora. 

Then they entered the house designated to them by 
Maffei, 

It was a common drinking and gambling shop, frequent- 
ed by the refuse of the city, men to whom the use of the 
knife was familiar, and every one of whom was under the 
ban of the police. 

It is needless to say that their scowling ugliness equaled 
their ferocity. 

Except in a few instances, the criminal class have a phys- 
iognomy of their own. 

They looked about them rather uneasily, not seeing 
Malfei. 

But that worthy put his head out of a doorway and beck- 
oned them to enter. 

They obeyed, and found about a dozen of the most vil- 
lainous of the whole gang congregated around a table, 
drinking and playing faro. 

At the sight of the two Caballeros they arose and saluted. 

“This gentleman,” said Maffei, pointing out the marquis, 
“ is your employer, and requests me to hand you this bag 
of money.” 

And he placed it on the table, emptying it as he did so. 

A gleam of satisfaction, of gratified avarice, gleamed on 
every countenance. 

“ When your task is finished, you are to have double,” 
he added. 

A warm cheer was the response, and then every man 
arose again, after counting his money. 

Maffei had explained plainly what was needed, and 
though the night’s adventure included the forcing open of 
a nunnery and the removal of some women, none of these 
desperadoes hesitated. 

Maffei, with a cunning which w^as characteristic of the 
peon race, had put everything in a pleasant and favorable 
light. 

But the cunning rascal had another part of his plot to 
carry out. 

Having recruited his ragged regiment, and placed him- 
self at their head, he proceeded with his masters to leave 
tlie house by a back and secret way, which admitted of the 
return of all the gang of ruffians without exciting the sus- 
picion or envy of their fellows. 

The night was dark, the police absent, and nothing was 
easier than to reach the convent unnoticed. 

But to enter within its walls was a different thing. 

It was surrounded by a high wall 


WIFE on ELAVE9 


53 


Its gates, lofty and impregnable, were closed for the 
night, and it appeared impossible to effect an entrance. 

But the artful cunning of Maffei was equal to any emer- 
gency. 

He knew that, in cases of sudden and serious sickness, 
there was always a sister ready to emerge from the gloomy 
portals. 

Upon this good point in the character of the nuns he re- 
lied for obtaining admittance, and aiding his villainous 
master in carrying out his nefarious scheme. 

Maffei rapped at a cottnge door, in which was a light 
burning, and a tall, ungainly man came to the door. Maffei 
pushed him inside, and showed him five new dollars. 

“What am I to do to earn them?” asked the other, with 
savage greed. 

“Look here, Santo,” replied Maffei, “you must ask no 
questions, but obey, and if successful, you shall have three 
times the money.” 

Madre de t)iosPA\Q cried. “I would descend to the 
bottomless pit for half the money !” 

“ Then go to the convent doors, ring, and say that your 
wife is very ill, and will die if one of the sisters does not 
come with a remedy, ” whispered Maffei. 

“I will do what you ask me,” said the avaricious ruffian. 

Maffei at once led him out, and Santo saw himself sur- 
rounded by a band of fellows whose faces were concealed 
by slouched hats. 

The gate of the convent was reached, and the bell was 
pulled. 

After several similar applications a shrill voice an- 
swered: 

“ Who is there at this hour?” 

“ Jose, the lame cobbler,” replied the other. 

“ What do you want, you evil one?” 

“ My poor wife is ill with a cramp — I believe dying, and 
I want Sister Francesca to come to her ; do, for the love 
of all the saints !” he whined. 

“ Cannot she wait until the morning?” asked the priest- 
ess. 

“ She will be dead,” he responded. 

“ Bird of ill omen I” she said, “ come into the lodge and 
wait. I have no doubt Sister Francesca has heard the bell, 
and is getting ready.” 

Saying which, she pulled the cord that made the gate 
swing on its hinges, and it opened. 

Maffei knew that if any suspicion fell upon Santo in 
reference to the nefarious deeds of that night, he, to excul- 
pate himself, would, as a matter of course, betray his em- 


54 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


“Give me the money, and let me go,” whispered Santo. 

But Maffei slipped the money into his pocket, and draw- 
ing his dagger, plunged it into the other’s heart. 

He fell like a log with scarcely even a sigh. 

Then Maffei rushed into the lodge, waving his weapon, 
and caught the portress by the arm. 

‘ ‘ Lead me to where the Senoras Miriam and Maria are 
imprisoned,” he said, ferociously. 

The unfortunate woman knew now how she had been 
tra 



She would have resisted, but life was dear, even in that 
semi-prison state, and she yielded. 

The men were left to guard the lodge, while the rest of 
the party followed the portress. 


CHAPTEE XII. 


THE SUPERIOR AND THE GIRLS. 


It happened that neither Miriam nor Maria had retired 
to rest. 

They occupied an apartment replete with every comfort. 

It was with no little surprise that the two girls at ten 
o’clock that night, saw a very luxurious supper brought in, 
with covers for three. 

“ The lady superior will sup with you,” said one of the 
attendants, in answer to an inquiring look. 

The girls exchanged glances, but had no time to speak, 
ere the lady abbess entered. 

She was most gracious, and informed them that, thinking 
they might be dull, she had come to pass an hour or two 
with them. 

The meal was consumed almost in silence, but after this 
tli^ abbess proceeded to speak graciously of their past and 
future. 

“I suppose,” she said, with a smile which was partially 
sad and partially bitter, “ that you have lived in the world 
only time enough to see its beauties, and not its darker 
spots?” 

“Our lives, lady,” replied Miriam, “have been checker- 
ed enough. We have had very sad trials, but we are not 
of those who despond. We believe that there is happiness 
yet in store for us.” 

“Do you think,” she continued, with a pitying smile, 
“that any such happiness can be found in such a calm 
retreat as this?” 

“Some years hence we may think so.” said Miriam, gen- 
tly — she believed the woman meant well — “ but should like 
to judge for ourselves first.” 

“Believe me, my daughters,” replied the superioresSj 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


55 


with a shake of the head, “there is no such calm and 
peaceful joy in the world as is to be met with here. But 
there, I will not sermonize. I am told you are rarely beau- 
tiful singers. Let me hear a duet.” 

Glad to change the subject, the girls arose and went to 
the piano. 

“You have been carefully taught?” she asked, when they 
had concluded. “To whom do you owe such mastery over 
your voice and instrument?” 

“Our mother first,” replied Miriam, with a painful 
smile, “ then masters, both foreign and native.” 

“ You sing well. How I should like to hear you in the 
choir to-morrow,” urged the worthy and excellent lady. 

“ We will sing with pleasure,” tiiey replied, glad of any 
relief to the monotony of their existence, and aware as well 
that on these days the public were admitted to hear if not 
to see. 

At this moment, a dull murmur was heard in the pas- 
sage without, and the door burst open, and the majority 
of the nuns came rushing in, with wild passionate cries. 

“What means this folly?” cried the abbess with an am 
gry fiushed face, as the girls came fiocking around her. 

The rush of a band of armed men, of the lowest class of 
leperos, was the answer. 

The abbess addressed the mob. 

“ Back, you sacrilegious men, who have dared to violate 
the sanctuary ! What seek you? Take our wealth, take 
what you will, but harm not my doves!” she cried. 

The Mexicans laughed. 

“ We do not want to harm any of your doves,” said the 
harsh voice of Maffei, advancing a few steps, “but we 
want the persons of the Senoras Miriam and Maria Di Lasso, 
unjustly detained.” 

The two young personages in question might have re- 
mained unknown from the others, but from their abject 
terror. 

“ Save us!” they cried, falling on their knees before the 
mother. “ Save us — do anything with us, but do not give 
us up to these men !” 

Two men, masked, in cloaks and slouched hats, ad- 
vanced, seized the shrieking girls in their arms, and moved 
away. 

“ If you don’t hold your tongues,” said Maffei, to the re- 
maining girls, ‘ ‘ it will be the worse for you. As for those 
silly fools, when they find they have been carried away by 
their own sweethearts, they will only be too glad.” 

The girls were wrapped in heavy cloaks, to silence their 
outcries, and were tlien carried to where the small caval- 
cade of horsemen awaited them, 


56 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


They were mounted, placed between two cavaliers, and 
thus guarded, started on the road to Sonora, under the 
charge of Maffei. 

The ruffians dispersed, having received their pay, the 
marquis and viscount returned to their palace secretly, and 
when morning came, only the dead body of the wretched 
Santo was there to indicate that a great calamity had oc- 
curred during the night. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A FELL ACCUSATION. 

It was twelve o’clock next day when Charles and Denby, 
having breakfasted with Mr. Thompson, had risen to take 
their leave of that jovial but excellent diplomat. 

At this moment a liveried servant entered to say that a 
messenger from the archbishop’s palace demanded imme- 
diate admission. 

“Show him in,” said Charles, eagerly. 

The person who came in was a lay servant of high posi- 
tion. 

He bowed sufficiently politely to the ambassador, and 
then addressed the two young men. 

“ His eminence wishes to see you at once,” he said, coldly. * 

“ Have we your permission?” said Charles. 

“Certainly, my boys,” he answered, in a low tone. 
“ But keep your eyes open. You are getting into a danger- 
ous net.” 

A carriage awaited them below, into which they entered, 
in which they were speedily driven to the palace of the 
archbishop. 

They were left in a dull, dreary ante-chamber, where 
nothing but a large table and some chairs served as furni- 
ture. 

• Presently the archbishop entered, accompanied by his 
private secretary. 

His face was stern, his mien was cold and rigid, and he 
did not even bow to the strangers. 

“ Pray, your eminence,” said Charles, “ to what do we 
owe this sudden summons?” 

“Hypocrites!” cried the bishop. “Do you pretend to 
be ignorant of the fearful and disgraceful outrage of last 
night?” 

‘ ‘ What outrage, in the name of all that is good and 
holy?” asked Charles, clasping his hand. 

The bishop looked at him keenly. 

Then, in cold words, he told of the abduction of the 
girls. 

The two heard him in horrified silence, 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


57 


“ My lord bishop,” said Charles Leicester, when he had 
finished, ‘‘and you suppose that we two gentlemen have 
been concerned in this foul and inhuman outrage?” 

“ Whom am I to suspect?” asked the worthy old man. 

“ The marquis,” they cried. 

“ He was here three hours ago to denounce you,” replied 
the prelate ; ‘ ‘ but pray be seated. I have acted in the heat 
and the spur of the moment. ” 

The young men obeyed his command with a look of pro- 
found horror. 

“Of course you can explain where you were all last 
night?” he said. 

“ Certainly,” replied Charles: “we can give an account 
of every instant of our time : though we should think any- 
thing of the kind hardly necessary.” 

‘ ‘ There is a fearful double crime to punish — murder and 
sacrilege,” said the bishop, “ and as you are accused, and 
in turn accuse others, everything must be done legally.” 

“ But in the meantime,” cried Charles, “ the young ladies 
are being carried off into hopeless captivity, at the mercy 
of their unnatural guardians.” 

“What would you do if you were free?” asked the 
worthy bishop. 

“ Search the wide world for them,” responded Den by. 

“ Young man, there is a ring of truth ^out you whicli I 
will not seek to deny. I will, and do believe you,” he said, 
“and by unnecessary delays will not keep your task of 
love and duty. One moment.” 

And he wrote some lines on a scrap of paper, which he 
handed to the domestic who entered. 

“ I have sent for the marquis and his son,” he said, “ to 
confront them with you.” 

And informing them that he had pressing business, he 
retired. 

Above where they sat was a gallery, and a minute or two 
later they might have seen a head protruding and listen- 
ing. 

“ What on earth shall we do?” asked Charles; “in this 
country, where there is no protection for life or property, 
our task is a difficult one.” 

‘ ‘ Surely it will be easy to find where the country seat 
of this hidalgo is situated,” retorted Denby, “ and then we 
must try the fortune of war.” 

“Bravely spoken, Denby,” said his friend; “how fort- 
unate for me to find such a Py lades.” 

“We love,” continued the other, “ two brave and noble 
girls, and we mean, I suppose, to follow them up, while 
life lasts.” 

“Amen; but unless the good bishop helps us, I fear we 


WIF^ OR SLAVE ! 


m 

shall have but a poor chance. Mexico is a wild country^ 
and we know not where they may be hidden,” mused 
Charles. 

At this moment the bishop entered with an angry and 
perturbed countenance. 

“ The marquis and his son have taken their departure 
for their country seat,” he said, angrily; “this absolves 
you at once.” 

“Can your eminence help us to follow them?” they 
asked. 

‘ ‘ I wall do all in the power of man to rescue these tw^o 
girls from a cruel fate. Go back to your hotel ; in an hour 
you will hear from me.” 

With many thanks and protestations of gratitude, the 
young men retired. 

Despite their youth and courage they were very down- 
hearted, for they seemed very far away from the fruition 
of their hopes. 

They, however, commanded Watson to first procure a 
guide and some muleteers, and then waited. 

In an hour came a packet from the bishop with the 
country address of the marquis of Aran j a, while in the 
packet were numerous letters for persons of high position, 
one in particular to an Irish resident, who owned consider- 
able property in the neighborhood. 

“Be cautions, and advise with Senor Patricio Fitz- 
patrick,” said the bishop; “he is my friend, and both a 
generous and honest man.” 

All these affairs settled, as far as they were themselves 
concerned, they now adjourned to the embassy, and fort- 
unately found Thompson disengaged. 

They briefly explained, and Charles asked for a furlough 
for the month. 

“Take three,” he answered, warmly, “only let me hear 
from you regularly. I shall be on the rack until you re- 
turn. Above all, my brave lads, be cautious and beware of 
treachery.” 

Of course they promised all, and soon after sitting down 
in company with some visitors to dinner, they had to con- 
verse on topics of a very different nature. 

They, however, made some excuse to leave early, and re- 
turning to the residence, prepared for their adventurous if 
not perilous journey. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE HACIENDA OP ARANJA. 

A Mexican country house partakes more of the nature 
of a fortress than an ordinary residence. 


WIFE 02 SLAVE f m 

It IS surrounded by high walls, protected by a ditch, and 
has a lofty look-out. 

Within, there are the gardens of the residence, usually 
very beautiful, with a great variety of ornamental flowers 
and trees. 

Some few weeks after the events which had occuired in 
the city of Mexico, the reader might have been surprised 
to see Miriam and Maria beneath a veranda looking out 
upon a lawn.. 

They were reclining on hammocks, gently swinging 
themselves with their feet. 

They appeared to be alone, but a glance into the room 
behind them indicated the presence of two duennas. 

“What a weary life this is,” said Miriam, with a sigh. 

‘ ‘ And yet we must submit to it. Here no friends can 
penetrate, no sympathetic hearts beat in unison with our 
own, or any means of communication be found with those 
who care for us,” sighed Maria. 

“In my opinion,” observed Miriam, “never will they 
desert us.” 

“But should they follow, should they trace us here even, 
of what avail?” said Maria. “ Were the marquis to invite 
them to the house — are we not helpless — are we not now in 
a state of bondage, from which there is no escape, save — 
save death?” 

Miriam made no answer for a momen , but after a 
glance at the two women, who luckily were sipping coffee, 
she said : 

‘ ‘ These Americans are brave, ” were her whispered words, 
“and who knows, even that great sorrow might be got 
over.” 

“ Would to Heaven it could, for without that there can 
be no happiness for us on earth,” said the other. 

The women now joined in the conversation. 

Miriam and Maria presently arose and indicated their 
wish to take a walk in the garden that bordered the river 
which went around three-quarters of the ei^^tate, thus do- 
ing without the necessity of high walls. 

The women could not urge any objection. 

Walking with arms around one another’s waists, they 
reached the wood which skirted the river, and got under 
the shade. 

There was a seat overlooking the river, which was about 
fifty feet wide, and on the other bank was another wood. 

Both girls, as they seated themselves, seemed to have a 
similiar thought. 

“ What were you thinking of, Miriam? ’ said Maria, with 
a faint blush. 


eo 


WIFE on SLAVE 9 


“I am afraid you guess but too well,” replied the other; 
“of our brave young Americans.” 

“But what is the use of thinking?” continued Maria. 
“ Shall w'e ever see them more?” 

“ Don’t you think they are brave enough to follow us?” 
urged Miriam. 

“ Brave enough, but what could they do here, surrounded 
as we are, guarded as we are, under, as it were, a spell?” 
said Maria. 

“Nevertheless, little unbeliever, I have the utmost com 
fidence. Eely upon it, they are upon our track.” 

At this moment there was a whizz heard in the air, and 
starting up, they saw an arrow sticking in a tree close at 
hand. 

They eagerly snatched it from its place of rest, and un- 
did a letter wrapped around its stem. 

It was eagerly opened — oh ! how eagerly — by the girls, 
whose eyes sparkled, whose bosoms heaved, whose color 
came and went fitfully. 

“ Miriam and Maria, your friends are near. Be in this 
grove to-night, and we shall be on hand. If all is safe, sing 
‘ Non pin mesta,'' Charles and Arthur.” 

They waved the letter on high toward the other shore, 
and saw a hand with a white handkerchief respond to 
their signal. 

“ The maimiis is asking for you, ladies,” said the quer- 
ulous voice or one of the duennas. 

“ We are coming,” cried Miriam. 

“Where have you hid yourselves?” the woman said, 
crossly; “ the marquis is hunting for you everywhere.” 

“ Except where we could have been found in five min- 
utes,” coolly responded Miriam; “ pray what does his lord- 
ship want with us now?” 

“ The marquis will tell you,” responded the woman, and 
ed the way toward the house without another word. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE ULTIMATUM— A SURPRISE. 

The marquis and the viscount awaited the two girls in 
the summer parlor. 

“What are your commands?” said Miriam. 

“Foolish and disobedient girl,” replied the marquis, “ I 
liave sent for you to say that this contumacy of yours can 
last no longer. Here,” holding up some official-looking 
documents, “are the legal licenses, enabling us to marry 
you when and where we like. The priest will be here this 
evening. You will be prepared to obey.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


61 


‘‘ Never!’’ said both, with one voice. 

Fools; do you wish to see your slave-mother flogged?” 
hissed the marquis. 

Both shivered with horror. 

“Your mother, being a slave, could not be legally 
married to my brother,” continued the marquis; “you, 
therefore, are not legitimate heiresses, but simply slaves, 
goods and chattels on the estate. It is only to save you 
from scorn that we have treated you as heiresses. We do 
not want to expose your real position, and are willing to 
condone everything by marriage.” 

“ Death were welcome— the most foul and cruel death — 
anything save dishonor. Better be the abject slave of an 
honorable man than the so-called wife of a cruel and vin- 
dictive scoundrel 1” cried Miriam. 

“Beware, girl, how you arouse me,” said the marquis; 
“to-night ends your rebellion.” 

“Come away,” Miriam continued; “ I cannot remain in 
the room.” 

“The priest will be here at nine,” sneered the marquis, 
“ and the ceremony will be performed at ten.” 

The girls made no reply. 

There was a great dread in their souls. 

This man was cruel, wicked and determined, and what 
could they do? 

Only one hope remained. 

As soon as it was eight o’clock they would go into the 
garden, and both felt that the gallant young Americans 
would not desert them. 

But some hours must elapse before the wished-for meet- 
ing, and during the interval they had a sacred duty to 
perform. 

In a part of the house entirely separate from the rest, 
and connected with it only by means of a passage, resided 
a person whom we have not as yefc seen. 

A beautiful, fair woman, with white face, rich auburn 
hair, and a soft, dreamy expression of countenance, arising 
probably from ill-health. 

She had several attendants, but she never quitted the 
apartment assigned her. 

This was Guadalupe Lasso, the one-time mistress of that 
house — the proud, much-loved wife of Gaspar, Marquis Di 
Trejico, the mother of Miriam and Maria — now without 
power or authority. 

The brother-in-law, who, during his brother’s life, had 
been her abject suitor, now refused her even a voice in the 
estate. 

“ She was a slave,” he said, “a born Louisiana slave, apd 
therefore could not be a wife,” 


m 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


She indignantly and proudly denied the statement. 

But the new marquis had in his possession documents, 
the affidavits^ of slave dealers, to prove she had been sold 
and bought. 

The affair was not made public for reasons which the 
marquis did not explain, but which will appear in the 
course of this narrative. 

‘‘My darling girls!” cried the fond mother, as they en- 
tered the room; “come to see me at last?” 

They knelt by her side. 

Their affection for this poor afflicted parent, who had 
always been so good and gentle, was something angelic. 

“Forgive us, mamma darling,” said Miriam; “but w^e 
have been so full of trouble.” 

“Anything fresh, my dears?” she cried, putting her 
hands upon their heads. 

“Nothing fresh; but the marquis has again informed us 
that unless we yield to his wishes this night, he will use 
even the most base and cowardly means to compel us,” 
cried Miriam. 

“ He has threatened to ill use my poor girls?” she said, 
fondling them. 

“He has, mamma,” they answered. 

“My daughters, the man is mad. He is a monster of 
the deepest dye; but fear not. Never shall any one lay 
hands on me. I have resigned myself to my fate ; since my 
husband’s death I have lived only for you. I have endured 
the foul shame of being called a slave — I have submitted to 
be assumed a vile woman ; but let him not go too far. ” 

She drew a small pocket pistol from a concealed pocket. 

“ I will shoot him as I would a dog,” she calmly added. 

“Mother — mother!” they cried. 

‘ ‘ I suffer. As long as this wretch keeps away from me, 
and degrades me not, I am content to live ; but let him not 
go too far. Girls, you are women now; so I will tell you 
why the villain acts as he has done: you will then know 
how to prefer death to being his wife — you, Miriam, or his 
son’s wife, Maria.” 

“Anything fresh?” they asked. 

“No. The villain, during your father’s life, dared tell 
me that he loved me, and when I threatened to have him 
scourged off the estate, like a hound that he is, bade me 
beware, for his hour of triumph would come. It has come.” 

“Good Heaven!” they cried. 

‘ ‘ The man knows that somewhere there is in existence a 
will in which my birth and parentage are set forth. He 
knows that if this will could be found, he is a ruined man. 
My husband learned his villainy by accident, and during 
his last illness revoked his will.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 63 

“Have you no knowledge,” cried Miriam, ‘Svhere that 
will is to be found?” 

“ None, my child,” said the poor mother. In his last 
illness he told me how he liad discovered his brother’s base- 
ness. He was about to tell me, not only who had the will, 
but some secret in connection with the marquis, when his 
voice failed him. When he recovered, he was suddenly 
called away to join the army, and was killed.” 

“ Oh, mother— mother, if this will could only be found !” 
exclaimed Miriam, earnestly, “you would be free and able 
to punish this man.” 

“True, my child,” she said, with a deep sigh; “but I 
cannot even imagine where it was concealed. But Heaven, 
in its own good time, will evolve the mystery.” 

“ Mamma,” began Miriam, with a look at her sister, and 
a slight blush, “ we^have something very particular to tell 
you.” 

“ Speak, my darling.” 

“We are going out to meet the brave young Americans 
this evening, ” Miriam half whispered. 

“ They have followed you?” she cried. 

“Yes, mother.” 

“Could you not contrive for me to see them?” urged the 
anxious mother. “ If I could but speak with them a few 
minutes, I should tell at once whether they are to be trust- 
ed or not.” 

“ Mother !” they cried. 

“ My darlings, you are at that bright and beautiful age 
when maidens think every young man an angel of light. 
I have nothing to say against them ; but, if they are honor- 
able men, they will not hesitate to see your mother.” 

“ Shall we bring them here?” 

“Yes; you know the secret door?” she asked, handing 
them a key. 

It was with rapturous delight that the girls hurried away 
to the garden. 

Theirs was an age of buoyancy and hope, and shielded 
by a mother, with two noble and gallant lovers, they felt 
almost as if they could defy their wicked relative. 

The knew him not only as their guardian, but their 
uncle. 

The quibble by which he got rid of the consanguinity 
question was that he was only a half-brother. 

They reached the banks of the stream without being 
watched. 

No sooner did the girls show themselves on the hanky 
than there shot from the opposite side a boat, 

In it were the two friends, 


64 WIFE OR SLAVE P 

We will not note what passed during the first two min- 
utes. 

The young ladies found themselves mysteriously sep- 
arated from each other for a brief space, and we are very 
much afraid that our noble friends behaved very much as 
rustics might have done, and before speaking stole a kiss 
from lips which, though coy, were not actually reluctant. 

“ You will escape at once,” said Charles. 

“No,” replied Miriam, firmly; “come with us, and 
judge for yourself.” 

There was no hesitation on the part of the young men. 

Where the enchantress led them, there were they ready 
to follow. 

The back of the house was soon reached, and passing 
through a court- yard, they came to a doorway, half con- 
cealed by roses and myrtles, which had to be pushed on 
one side before the door could be opened. 

They were then at the foot of the stairs. 

The girls led the way up, and Miriam rushing forward, 
Maria remained behind about a minute, and then ushered 
the young men into the apartment occupied by Guadalupe 
Lasso, the Marchioness Di Trejico. 

“Mamma,” said Miriam, very proudly, and yet with a 
smile, “ this is Charles Leicester, this is Arthur Denby.” 

“This is indeed a surprise,” said the attache^ “and a 
very pleasant surprise. We did not expect such an 
honor,” he added. 

‘ ‘ Gentlemen, sit down, ” said Guadalupe, ‘ ‘ and I will ex- 
plain why my children are not allowed to speak of me, 
forbidden to refer to my existence.” 

They looked at one another. 

“ The monster of iniquity, the miscreant who is ruler in 
this house, declares that I am a slave, and that legally in 
the country where I was married and they were born, they 
are slaves !” she cried. 

“ But it is a foul calumny !” exclaimed Charles. 

“ Young man, I am told that you and your friend have 
expressed some admiration for my darling girls. I wished 
to see you, to learn if you cared for them only for their 
wealth and position, or whether you would dare the 
world’s scorn if the marquis proves them to be the wretch- 
ed outcast offspring of a slave. ” 

‘ ' I for one would take Miriam to wife, without a penny, 
and never regard as a stain on her that which she cannot 
help !” exclaimed Charles, taking Miriam’^ ' hand in his. 

“I say so with all my heart,” added Donby, sidling up 
to Maria. 

The girls said nothing, but there was an eloquence in 
the eye which nothing can read. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


65 


‘‘Bravely spoken/' said the proud and happy mother ; 
“but know that on their father’s side they are hidalgos 
of the purest Spanish blood, while, Charles Leicester,” she 
added, with a faint smile, “their mother is a Leicester.” 

The surprise created by this announcement may be more 
readily conceived than explained. 

“ A Leicester, my dear madam?” cried the young man. 

“Yes; your father had an uncle, who was not on the 
best of terms with his family. He came to Louisiana, 
married a rich heiress. I am Stanhope Leicester’s only 
daughter.” 

“ Heaven !” exclaimed Charles; “my father spent hun- 
dreds trying to trace him. He believed that when a boy 
he wronged his uncle, and tried to discover his where- 
abouts.” 

“I know; but my father was very proud. He was a 
rich cotton planter, a man of fabulous wealth in money 
and slaves,” she added, with a deep sigh, “and did not 
care to renew acquaintance with his New York friends.” 

“But, my dear lady, how does this man dare to lord it 
over you?” asked Leicester. 

‘ ‘ By ah old will which my husband made when he be- 
lieved in him. That will was revoked, but we have never 
been able to find it,” she continued, “but we must now 
speak of more pressing matters.” 

“With pleasure!” 

“ You truly and honorably love my daughters?” she said. 

“As our future wives,” they answered. 

“Bravely and manfully spoken,” said the mother. “ But 
how to keep these miscreants at bay? I have written a 
full statement of the case to the archbishop, but it may be 
weeks before I get an answer.” 

“ The bishop is our friend. We are here by his consent 
and connivance,” cried Charles. 

“ And he knows they are heretics?” 

“Yes; but he is a man of the world, and will, I believe, 
befriend them,” urged Charles. 

Gruadalupe Lasso now explained the intentions of the 
marquis. 

“It is nearly nine,” she said; ‘*1ie says the priest will 
be here at ten. If he is admitted to this house there will 
be a terrible tragedy. I will shoot the villain through the 
head rather than degrade my daughters. ” 

“We will leave at once,” cried Charles; “be in no feari 
by fair means or foul we will stop the priest.” 

“You need use no violence with him. The wine cup and 
a few dollars will go a long way. But lose no time. If he 
is to be here at ten, rely upon it, you will waylay him at 
the^nn,” 


06 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


Without a moment’s delay they were taken to the place 
where their boat was moored, and after a deeply earnest 
parting, started on their journey. 

When the girls, with wildly heating hearts, rejoined 
their mother, they found, both to their disgust and sur- 
prise, that the marquis and his son were present. 

They had been drinking, and were unusually brutal and 
arrogant in their manner. 

“Woman,” said the elder man, “have you brought these 
proud wenches around to a proper sense of their duties?” 

“ I must beg you will address me correctly. I am the 
Marchioness Trejico.” 

“ Marchioness !” roared the elder, with a coarse laugh; 
“we’ll marchioness you. If you don’t make these girls 
succumb to our will, you shall taste the cat of nine tails I” 

“Flog your brother’s wife!” she said, in a tone of deep 
disgust and horror. 

“Wife,” laughed the ruffian, “ wife me no wives, or with 
my own hand will I chastise the base slave who dares to 
insult an honorable family^. ” 

And he actually raised his cane and stepped forward, 
white with passion. 

Miriam rushed forward, snatched the bamboo from his 
hand, and broke it in two pieces. 

“My daughter,” said the marchioness, quietly, “you 
should not have interfered. Had he touched me, he would 
have been a dead man, and you would have been free.” 

And then she leveled the exquisitely-made pistol at his 
head. 

With flashing eyes and swelling bosom Miriam con- 
fronted the marquis. 

He turned livid. 

‘‘Dastard,” cried the marchioness, “y’^ou need not fear 
now ; but lay this to your soul, that never before were you 
so near death. I am a patient, long-suffering woman ; for 
the sake of my children, I have borne wdth much — but a 
blow never. Death shall be the portion of the being who 
dares strike me. Fool, beware ! Do you know- that my 
cousin, Charles Leicester, is in Mexico, and that an appeal 
to him means utter ruin to you?’' 

The marquis stood still a moment as if annihilated, but 
then, recovering himself, spoke: 

The gentleman you speak of, and whom you so madly 
claim as a relation, has quite enough to do to look after 
himself. He is accused of sacrilege,” he sneered. 

“ Accused of your crime,” she answered. 

“All this is useless recrimination,” said the marquis, im- 
patiently. “You know my terms. Give your free and 
unreserved consent to the marriage of your daughters to 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


67 

us, and we will destroy the proofs of your base birth, and 
allow you to appear in society as the fair mother of two 
charming heiresses. Eefuse, and be assured, if nothing 
else happens, you will be taken into Louisiana, and sold.” 

At this moment a horn sounded outside, and indicated 
that some one demanded admission. 

'‘Fra Antonio,” cried the count; “so, ladies, prepare 
for your wedding.” 

The girls shivered as they listened, and curling their arms 
around one another’s necks, wept. 

“Be calm, my children,” said the poor mother. “Put 
your trust in Heaven. This monstrous crime shall never 
be consummated. Eing for chocolate; I am faint and ill.” 

Meanwhile, the marquis and his son had gone to the re- 
ception-room of the hacienda, there to receive the priest. 

Imagine their surprise and astonishment, when the 
major-domo ushered in their neighbor, Colonel Fitzpatrick. 

“To what fortunate coincidence, most hospitable neigh- 
bor,” said the marquis, with rather mock politeness, “ do 
we owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

“ Well, I and my people have been out ostrich hunting, 
and being late, have come to ask for shelter for the night. 
We should have stopped at the posada, only that drunken 
priest. Fra Antonio, was making such a beast of himself 
that the place was crowded.” 

“ Command our house,” said the marquis, in true Span- 
ish style. “Everything we have is at your service.” 

“While I am here, I have another errand to perform. 
My daughters have not seen the charming senoritas for 
some time. When will they ride around?” asked the Irish 
gentleman. 

“Oh, they shall come to-morrow,” cried the marquis, 
who always liked to keep up appearances. 

“And their charming mamma?” continued the polite 
Irishman. 

“Her chronic malady incapacitates her from receiving 
friends or paying visits,” said the marquis, stiffly. 

As he spoke he rang for his major-domo, and bade him 
Bend in refreshments, and prepare beds and every other 
convenience for the travelers. 

In every hacienda, which is as large usually as about 
six good-sized American farm-houses, there is a large room 
specially reserved to the use of travelers. 

Colonel Fitzpatrick, as a neighbor and a friend, was pro- 
vided with a bedroom, but the hunters and others who had 
accompanied him were put into this room. 

They were ten in number, and wore the picturesque cos- 
tume of the Mexican hunter. 


6S WIFE OR SLAVE 9 

Two of the hunters held aloof from the others, and spoke 
in a low tone. 

Beneath the rather transparent disguise might have been 
recognized Arthur Denby and Charles Leicester. 

Colonel Fitzpatrick, with whom they were staying, had 
amply carried out the wishes of his friend the archbishop. 

He had received the young men with open arms. 

There was no man in Sonora who knew the marquis bet- 
ter than he did. 

‘ ‘ There is no snake on the prairies so dangerous, no pan- 
ther so cunning and wily. Beware. You must not meet 
this man openly and face to face. He is an unmitigated 
scoundrel, and could proof be found, would be hung,” he 
cried. “ As for the girls and their dear mother, we would 
only be too glad to see them out of his clutches. ” 

They had explained the footing on which they stood. 

“ I know I ought to be angry with you two Protestant 
boys carrying off such beautiful heiresses. But there, it 
can’t be helped. Human nature is human nature all the 
world over, and the boys will love the girls,” said tlie jolly 
Irishman. 

“Papa,” said his daughter Norah, while Di lifted her fin- 
ger at him, “ will you talk like a gentleman?” 

They were, indeed, two bright and lovely girls, one sev- 
enteen, the other nineteen. 

Both were heart whole. 

The arrival of two handsome, highly-educated, and re- 
fined Americans was an event in their lives. 

It was with something of a jealous pang that they heard 
that they were there on a love expedition. 

But they were very warm-hearted, generous girls, and 
soon took an interest in the young men. 

They were well acquainted with Miriam and Maria, and 
liked them much. 

It was agi-eed on that day that the young men should be 
initiated in the mysteries of ostrich hunting, and that in 
pursuit of these very valuable birds they should go near the 
hacienda of Aranja. 

It would then be easy to slip away, and try for an inter- 
view with the girls. 

All turned out as they expected, and the colonel agreed 
to wait at the posada for their return. 

When they came back the young men told all, and it was 
agreed, not only that the priest should be stopped on the 
way, but that Colonel Fitzpatrick, to whom they could not 
refuse hospitality, should ask shelter for the night. 

This would secure the girls immunity for the time. 

It was also arranged that an invitation, which Spanish- 
American politeness couldn’t refuse, should be given. 


WIFE OB SLAVE f 


69 


As the presence of the two young Americans was not even 
suspected, there could be no reason for refusing. 

All were well aware that the mother would be left as a 
hostage. 

It was this cunning device that had made Miriam, when 
in Europe, so obedient to the will of her uncle and guardian. 

All had succeeded as they desired. 

Next morning after breakfast the hunters and peons in 
attendance on Colonel Fitzpatrick were early in the 
saddle. 

The two young ladies, who had readily consented to the 
visit for reasons which may be imagined, were mounted 
soon after breakfast, and with their special servants in 
charge, departed in company with Colonel Fitzpatrick. 

They were warned to return early, and knew that any 
disobedience would be reflected upon their mother. 

All Mexican houses are flat-roofed, and as soon as the 
girls had departed, the father and son, from some odd im- 
pulse, ascended to the roof and looked out. 

They saw the girls trotting beside the colonel until they 
reached the escort that awaited them. 

Then two hunters, with broad-brimmed hats and pon- 
chos, bowed and rode up to the girls, who extended their 
hands. 

“Who the demonio can they be?” cried the marquis, in 
an angry tone. “ The colonel seems to me to derogate very 
much.” 

‘ ‘ Like his impudence. But if they are persons fit to 
speak to the girls,” said the son, “ why did he not intro- 
duce them?” 

“ It looks queer. I shall go around to the posada and 
see that drunken Fra Antonio,” said the marquis; “ it ap- 
pears to me that somebody is playing the fool with us.” 

“ It looks like it,” said the count. 

And both going down, ordered their horses, and were 
soon dashing over the prairie on their way to the posada 
of Santa Maria, where an unexpected and singular sur- 
prise awaits them. 

Tins is what had happened at the posada to prevent the 
priest being in time to carry out his villainous machina- 
tions. 

The two young men, after their interview with Miriam 
and Maria, mounted the horses which were concealed in 
one of the numerous thickets, and rode as fast as possible 
to the inn where they were waited for by their compan- 
ions. 

They had scarcely dismounted and assumed a careless 
attitude, when there came in sight two priests mounted on 
mules, and guided by a muleteer. 


70 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


The priests dismounted, and our friends respectfully 
raised their hats. 

The jovial monks muttered something and then passed 
into the room, where a minute later food, wine and aqua 
ardiente were placed before them. 

Then Charles Leicester and Arthur Lenby entered, and 
hoped their reverends found everything to their taste. 

The monks, in a dignified tone, thanked them very 
much, upon which they retired to consult with the col- 
onel. 

The innkeeeper was easily brought over to the interests 
of the noble cavaliers who spent their money so freely, and 
promised that the priests should not leave the inn that 
night. 

This promise he kept by joining them and telling some 
of the stories to which these degenerate Mexicans are so 
partial, plying them all the while with potent drink. 

The rest we know. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

NORAH. 

Norah Fitzpatrick was one of those Irish girls who, 
under a merry and laughing exterior, conceal a loving, 
warm heart, capable of the deepest emotions. 

Norah was very beautiful, and, brought up in the society 
of her sister, father, and governess, had known only the 
smooth side of human nature. 

Though only sixteen, the climate and her Mexican mother 
made her appear nearer eighteen, and she had already sev- 
eral lovers. 

But not one had touched her maiden heart, a circum- 
stance which was a source of great satisfaction to her 
father, who was meditating an early flight to his beloved 
Ireland, where he believed his lovely gems would be duly 
admired and advantageously settled. 

The colonel was obliged to be very careful. 

If it had been known that he had been realizing all his 
property, selling his shares in diamond mines, etc., he 
would have been accused of some political crime and 
thrown into prison. 

His daughters were not even taken into his confidence, 
though they knew something was about to happen. 

The arrival of Charles and Arthur was not without its 
influence on their feelings. 

Then their father, who was keen-eyed, though reticent, 
took care casually to mention that they were in love, en- 
gaged, in fact, and in search of their charming mistresses. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 71 

Norah and her sister Di sat watching for the return of 
their father and his friends. 

They were on the flat roof about mid-day, after the late 
morning meal, and, seated under a pleasant tent, were 
looking out in the direction of the road by which the prin- 
cipal entrance was rea(^hed. 

“See, they come,” said Di, triumphantly. 

“Yes, riding along in haste,” replied Norah. “I can 
make out papa’s tall, majestic flgure, but the others are 
behind, and they are dressed as common hunters, too.” 

^'QueredaP' retorted Di, “they have been hunting 
strange game.” 

“ What do you mean?” asked Norah. 

“ Girls — at all events, women,” said Di, with a mischiev- 
ous laugh. 

There was no laugh, however, on the bps of Norah. 

Somehow, the earnest desire for their return had all faded 
away. 

She could not tell why. 

“I must be ready to play the hostess, Di,” she said, a 
little fretfully, “ so come along.” 

“Any company is a change,” responded the merry young 
girl, as she followed her more majestic sister. 

They reached the extensive reception-room and waited. 

Soon a crowd of horsemen dashed into the court-yard, 
and presently the colonel entered the room, followed by 
two young and handsome girls, attended by their duenna. 

No one else. 

“ My dears,” said the hospitable Irishman, “ I bring you 
Miriam and Maria Di Lasso, who come to claim your hos- 
pitality for a day or so.” 

‘ ‘ They are welcome, ” replied Norah, with a warmth which 
was no deceit, and a reserved regret that was painful. “1 
should not have known them.” 

“That means, ladies,” said the hearty Irishman, “that 
you have improved out of all knowledge. They have 
grown handsome, I must say.” 

“Now, colonel,” interrupted Miriam, with a sweet smile, 
as the girls embraced according to the fashion of the coun- 
try, “you always were a flatterer. You should leave that 
act of folly to younger men. ” 

“Already,” laughed the colonel; “and they have only 
gone to change their dress. Norah will *give orders for 
rooms to be prepared.” 

Norah readily requested the Mexican senoras to follow 
her, and at once took them to the guests’ chamber, and 
after passing half an hour in the innocent prattle of 
maidens, they returned to join the lords of creation. 


72 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


Charles and Arthur, in the costume of their real position 
in society, advanced to greet the daughters of their host. 

There was a slight flush on Norah’s face, a rather pain- 
ful compression of the lips, as she invited them to partake 
of refreshments. 

At the table both young gentlemen were too well-bred to 
address their conversation to their lady-loves exclusively. 

But there were occasional intonations of voice, stolen 
looks, which to the parties principally concerned had 
meaning enough. 

After the sumptuous lunch came the cigars and coffee, 
upon which the ladies retired. 

Soon, too, the colonel showed signs of wishing to enjoy 
his favorite siesta, and the two young men retired to their 
own rooms, where they snatched an hour of brief repose. 

At the end of that time Charles came into Arthur s 
room. 

“ My dear fellow,” he began, “before we indulge in our 
duties of dressing for dinner, I want to have a talk.” 

“My dear fellow,” said Denby, “let me hear to what 
your eloquence tends.” 

“ I have been racking my brain to find some plan for 
outwitting this unmitigated scoundrel, the marquis. He 
has papers in his possession to prove that their mother was 
a born slave, and then in the eyes of the law, our charm- 
ing girls are themselves slaves.” 

“ But slavery is legally abolished in this country,” urged 
Denby. 

“It is; but a rich man can evade all laws. Besides, 
twenty-four hours would take him into a free slave State,” 
continued Charles. 

“They are not colored people,” said Denby, in an ex- 
asperating tone. 

“ I know they are not. But if they obstinately refuse to 
gratify the whim of these men, they will be spirited away, 
and the marquis and his scoundrel son will reign in their 
place,” urged Charles Leicester. 

“But what does all this lead to, except that we run 
away with them at once?” said Denby, now fairly aroused. 

“We cannot. They will not leave their mother, whom 
the villains retain as hostage. No, we must bide our time 
and contrive to carry off the mother as well, place her un- 
der the protection of the law, and then let the tribunal de- 
cide.” * 

“You are right,” said Denby. 

“ Do you not see,” said Charles, whom love had made 
far-sighted, “ if the marquis can prove that the marchioness 
was a slave, the poor girls are ruined?” 

“ How so?” asked the young lord. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


73 


The marriage took place when slavery was absolutely 
the law of the land. In this case, she having been a slave, 
there was no marriage, and you see the consequences,” 
said diaries, dolefully. 

Poor girls!” sighed Arthur. 

“ Surely their misfortune,” cried Charles, irritably, 
“ does not change your real sentiments toward them?” 

“Charles,” said Denby, in his most dreadful lisping 
tone, “ if you insult me, I shall— ah — be compelled to cmas- 
tise you.” 

“Forgive my irritability,” replied Charles, “ and give us 
your fist.” 

And these two loyal young Americans, faithful unto 
death, shook hands, and went each into his own room to 
dress for dinner. 

There were several young gentlemen and friends, the 
hospitable Irishman keeping open house, to whom the 
travelers were introduced as Messrs. Debret and Peerage, 
as good a name for a Mexican as any other, so any in- 
timacy was impossible. 

After dinner, when men and Avomen all retired together, 
all thought of anything but music and song was aban- 
doned. 

Miriam and Maria Avere celebrated for their duets, with 
guitar accumpaniment, AA^hile Norah and Di were excellent 
players on the piano, and knew duets popular in America. 

Presently Norah selected one which required a male 
voice. 

It was written in English, and Avas a rather passionate 
love song. 

She turned to Charles, and asked him to sing it A\uth 
her. 

The two went to the instrument. 

It was a wild, weird melody, telling the cruel story of a 
pair of lovers, parted by fate, and Avho, while professing 
undying attachment, recognized the absolute necessity of 
separation. 

They were both accomplished musicians, both as to voice 
and expression, and both put into the simulation of passion 
and grief such reality as electrified the audience. 

When they concluded, Charles arose with a laugh, and, 
seeing a chair vacant beside Miriam, walked slowly across 
the room and secured it. 

“ I was not aware,” said Miriam, with a dry little laugh, 
“that you were such an accomplished musician and 
actor. ” 

“ It is a gift of which I am not very proud. It is an 
accident, and, to please my mother and sisters, I cultivated 
it,” he answered, “ ’Tis rarely that I own to it.” 


74 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


“ Miss Fitzpatrick is the more honored,” she added. 

“I could not point blank refuse a lady,” responded 
Charles, who felt that the other was piqued. ‘ ‘ I wonder 
whether we might not find one we could sing together.” 

“My voice, I fear, would not go so harmoniously as that 
of Norah,” sue said, a little more loudly ; “but I will try.” 

A duet was found, not of the wild and passionate kind, 
but softly melodious, the outpouring of two happy hearts 
in the trammels of love. 

This musical effort was almost as successful as the pre- 
vious one. 

After this chocolate and other refreshments were handed 
around, and the company dispersed. 

“Maria,” said Miriam, when she was alone with her 
sister, and her chamber-door was securely fastened, “don’t 
you think Charles Leicester very much changed?” 

“I think he flirted a little bit with Norah,” responded 
Maria, yawning; “and so did Arthur with Di; but I think 
that was policy.” 

“ Maria, be not too sure. They know now the supposed 
taint upon our birth ; they know that, if our vile guardian 
can only prove his charge, we are neither heiresses nor fit 
associates for their relatives,” she cried, bitterly. “It 
seems to me that since they knew this their ardor has 
cooled.” 

“ Miriam, do not distress yourself, do not malign our 
noble lovers. I am sure, since the fatal information has 
been given them, they have been even more tender and 
devoted. Ah, Miriam, do not be jealous. It is a false mis* 
take. You did not like his singing with Norah.” 

“ The singing I cared not for,” she answered coldly; “it 
was the way, the manner, and the singular choice of the 
duet. I will not judge hastilyj but I will watch. I have 
my eyes keenly fixed on the pair, and if I find anything to 
justify my suspicions, I will tear him from my heart as 
readily as I would cast a snake from me.” 

As she walked up and down the room, her hair dishev- 
elled, her dress in disorder, she looked a very queen. 

“Calm yourself, my dear,” said Maria. “This is mere 
folly. If Charles be false, then will I believe all men the 
same. ” 

“Heaven grant'you may be right in your conjectures,” 
sighed poor Miriam, quite exhausted by her tumultuous pas- 
sions. “ I will wait and hope.” 

Meanwhile another scene had taken place, not twenty 
yards away, which might have softened the proud heart of 
Miriam herself. 

Norah, directly the adieux of the night were over, had 
hurried to her room, and at Quoe shut tho door. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


75 


She had hitherto been outwardly calm, but pale as death 
with inward and suppressed emotions. 

Now she cast herself on a couch, and without restraint, 
gave way to a flood of tears. 

“ How he loves her — ^how he loves her!” burst from her 
lips like a wail of anguish ; “ and how grand and beautiful 
he is ; how that heart-rending song made my bosom heave, 
and searched out the secret fibers of my soul. Such has 
been the man of my dreams, the vision of my waking 
hours, such as I never thought to find in the cold reality of 
life.” 

Then she arose, walked to the pier-glass, and looked at 
herself keenly. 

“And thisisNorah Fitzpatrick, the proud daughter of 
the colonel,” she said to herself, “ weeping over a man who 
loves another. Ha — ha — ha ! If any one had dared to say 
as much, would I not have flouted them?” 

It was a brave attempt at a laugh which followed, how- 
ever, and then she cast herself into a luxurious armchair. 

“ In vain to struggle with fate, to bluster with the affec- 
tions. I love him — yes, I love him ! That which it would 
scorch my soul to have another suspect, I may confess to 
myself and not be ashamed,” she cried, clasping her hands ; 

‘ ‘ be still, my beating heart, and learn to hide your secret 
from every mortal eye. Were he to suspect, I should die 
of shame.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER. 

On the next morning Norah was the first to awaken. 

She at once commanded the attendance of her maid, and 
after taking a bath, sallied forth in a peculiarly pictur- 
esque deshabille for the garden. 

Charles Leicester was also awakened early, and seeing 
his companion and friend in a heavy sleep, he resolved not 
to awaken him, but made up his mind to have a stroll in 
the fresh morning air. 

He knew the way about the house ; besides, the peons 
and negresses were about, and readily directed him, and 
so it was not difficult for Charles to find what was called 
the ladies’ bower. 

When he caught a glimpse of a Mexican straw hat and a 
flowing dress under a tree in the distance, how his heart 
beat, how his pulse quickened. 

And with a faint attempt at appearing unconcerned, he 
approached the tree. 

Hfiilj goddess of the morp,/’ he said, in a soft voice, 


76 


WIFE OR SLAVED? 


how inexpressibly sweet even to the ears he spoke to ; you 
are early.” 

She turned and displayed the calm, laughing face of 
Norah. 

‘‘lam usually an early riser,” she replied, giving her 
hand; “ and to-day, perhaps, a little before my time. As, 
however, I have exceeded my morning stroll, and there are 
many guests to be seen to, you must forgive me if I return 
to the house. ” 

“I will also return to awaken my friend,” replied 
Charles. 

And both moving along the path, came face to face with 
Miriam, who, despite her great resolution, w^as unable 
wholly to conceal her vexation. 

“Dear Miriam,” said Norah, with alight laugh, “ as Mr. 
Leicester has now found that which he was in search of, 
allow me to run in and prepare for breakfast.” 

And she tripped off, as merry and light-hearted an Irish 
girl, to all appearance, as ever was seen ; in reality, with 
a heavy, gasping weight at her bosom, which was nearly 
choking her. 

“ I have been out this quarter of an hour, dear Miriam,” 
said Charles, in his usual frank and manly way, “and 
hoped to have found you in the garden.” 

“You found a charming substitute,” she answered, as 
lightly as she could. 

“ Miriam,” said Charles, in a tone of lofty severity, which 
he could assume at times, “never joke in matters of the 
heart. It is a thing which often leads to evil. As for sup- 
posing that you could be jealous, such a supposition would 
lower you too much in my opinion for me to dare enter- 
tain it.” 

Miriam could not lielp smiling. 

The tone, the manner, let her young ladyship know one 
thing, and that was, that if they ever were married, she 
would have a master, one who would not be trifled with. 

And her heart swelled with pride and exultation, for 
now she believed herself secure of his sole and undivided 
affection. 

For fully a quarter of an hour they delayed, talking first 
of their heart’s secrets, and then of the future. 

“ I can see only one plan,” said Charles, explaining what 
he had hinted to Denby ; “we must contrive to carry off 
your mother to Mexico city, place her under the protection 
of the American embassy, and defy the marquis.” 

“If it could be done all would be well, ” said Miriam ; 
“were my mother quite free — free to speak and to act — 
she could annihilate the marquis. But even to us she will 
not whisper the drea-d secret, while she is in his power,” 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


77 


** Have you no suspicion?” asked Charles. 

“None whatever. Mother has told us that, did the mar- 
quis only suspect he would put her to a cruel death,” she 
answered; “ but there is the great bell,” she cried, “there 
is only half an hour left to dress for breakfast.” 

At which Charles laughed, bade his beautiful mistress 
adieu for the nonce, and went up to find Arthur nearly 
dressed. 

He was not quite so expansive as Charles, and could 
really wait until after breakfast before he feasted his eyes 
on the damsel of his soul. 

“ This sort of morning business, catching the early worm, 
you know,” he said, “may do for milkmaids and shep- 
herds, but I like to go down cool to my breakfast. ” 

“ How dare you call me a shepherd and Miriam a milk- 
maid?” asked Charles. 

“So you have seen her?” continued Arthur ; “thought 
so. But as I believe Maria to have more sense, I did not 
hurry. 

“Well, I must say, except Norahand Miriam, there was 
no one about,” said Charles, with an air of sleek compla- 
cency. 

“ I say, Charles,” observed Denby, with an air of gravity, 
which, though unusual, became him well, “beware how 
you behave to Miss Fitzpatrick, and above all, do not call 
her Norah. She is a dear, impulsive girl, and, I fear, pos- 
sesses a heart decidedly inflammable. She is a pure and 
tender flower.” 

“Isay, Denby, what do you mean? You don’t accuse 
me of such rascality as flirtation with one girl when I love 
and am engaged to another^” cried Charles, irately. 

“I respect you too much, my dear Leicester, to suspect 
you of any such meanness, ” said Denby ; but girls are so 
susceptible, and catch fire on the slightest pretense.” 

Charles muttered something, and went on with his toilet. 

Charles, though seated at the father’s request beside his 
eldest daughter, was rather raspish and petulant. 

He felt that the eyes of both Miriam and Denby wei*e 
upon him. 

Still he was not impolite, and presently arousing himself, 
launched out into the description of some of his adventures 
in Paris and Germany. 

Every one was amused, and shortly after, the meal being 
over, the ordinary guests departed, leaving only Charles 
and Denby . 

Now, as ill-luck would have it, there had been present one 
of the most ardent admirers of Norah, a certain Don Reboso 
D’ Alcantara, 


78 WIFE OR SLAVE f ' 

Ever since his arrival, he had kept his eyes on Charles 
and Norah. 

He was jealons at once, but the duet finished him, es- 
pecially when, at the morning meal, the attache of the 
American Embassy sat in the {dace of honor. 

As he rode out beside another caballero, he spoke. 

“I wonder who those confounded Americans are!” he 
said. 

“I can’t make them out,” replied the other, who was a 
candidate, rejected, for Di. 

“ Let us ride over to the marquis ; his wards are here, and 
perhaps he may give us a hint about them; for aught we 
know, they may be some rascally adventurers, who have 
imposed upon the good colonel.” 

‘‘A Dios,” cried the other, and knocking their spurs into 
the sides of their horses, the two jealous lovers darted off 
in the direction of the hacienda of the marquis. 

Meanwhile, utterly unconscious of the dangers and perils 
impending over their heads, the lovers had given them- 
selves up to very different thoughts. 

The girls retired to their private apartments as Tisual, for 
an hour or two in the morning, while Charles and Arthur 
remained with the colonel, who, as was the custom, at once 
began smoking, an indulgence in which the two gentlemen 
did not disdain to indulge. 

‘‘ Colonel,” said Charles, after a few premonitory whiffs, 
Indian fashion, “I have already explained to you the 
position in which we are placed. I and my friend here have 
determined at any price to marry the two charming girls 
who are now your guests.” 

“Willful boys will have their way,” he answered. “I 
see only two difficulties, the opposition of the marquis, and 
the difference of religion.” 

“Colonel,” said Charles, gravely, “you are an officer 
and a gentleman, and the archbishop bade us trust you 
wholly. There is no difference of religion. Like their 
mother, they are Protestants.” 

“ And did his eminence know this?” asked the colonel, 
in a sad tone. 

“ Yes, on my honor,” replied Charles. 

“ Then I have nothing more to say,” he answered; “ go 
on with your statement. ” 

Charles then explained what he and Den by and the girls 
had thought of in regard to carrying off the mother, plac- 
ing her under American protection, and then appealing to 
the laws. 

“ A bold and gallant, and yet desperate resolve, but still 
one of which I approve,” said the colonel, warmly; “rely 
upon me to help you in every way that is possible,” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


79 

'‘We counted on your noble heart,” cried the two young 
men, shaking him by the hand heartily. 

Then they went into plans and details, the result of 
which will be ultimately seen. 

After the siesta, and just as there was some talk of a 
ride over the prairie, a domestic entered. 

“ The Marquis Di Trejico is at the gate, with his son and 
a large party,” he said. 

“ Retire,” whispered the master of the house, “and leave 
everything to me.” 

The young men left the apartment, and shortly after the 
marquis and his son entered to find the colonel and the 
four young girls seated around the traditional coffee urn, 
and looking as calm and collected as if nothing had hap- 
pened. 

“ You ride early, marquis,” said the Irishman, when the 
first courtesies had been exchanged. 

“ I thought my wards might be a burden to you,” replied 
the wily Mexican, who had met the young men on their 
way to his residence. 

Casually they had spoken of the presence of the two 
Americans. * 

Purple with rage, the marquis had questioned them, and 
been convinced that he had been pursued into the wilds of 
Sonora by these persevering lovers. 

He determined, however, to dissemble, and both he and 
his son arranged to keep secret the discovery they had 
made. 

Colonel Fitzpatrick was keenly alive to the marquis’ 
character. 

He was certain that he came with a motive. 

“ My dear marquis, here are four young ladies who have 
not met for more than a year, and you wish to part them 
at once. Impossible, my dear sir. They have laid out 
plans for at least a week. Weary of them! You don’t 
know me. Girls, go to your music, and send us in wine 
and cigars,” he added. 

The girls laughingly obeyed. 

The marquis and his son exchanged glances. 

The colonel was in too high a position to be offended. 

The Mexicans were therefore compelled by all the rules 
of civil etiquette to yield, and did so with an affectation 
of satisfaction which was cleverly put on. 

Both agreed to stop the night, returning to the hacienda 
the next day. 

“ I will bring your girls back safe and sound at the end. 
of the week,” said the colonel, heartily ; “they will come to 
uo harm while in my custody.” 


80 WIFE on SLAVE 9 

There was mvich significance in the way these words were 
said. 

The marquis bit his lip. 

He knew as well as possible that all his scheming ras- 
cality was known to the colonel as if he had told him so 
himself. 

But he must bide his time. 

He was resolved that, once the girls were again in his 
custody, no scruples should restrain him. 

If he carried them off bodily to Texas with their mother, 
he would crush their spirit. 

He knew well that only as their husbands could he and 
his son enjoy their fortunes. 

Wine, cigars and monte passed away the time until din- 
ner. 

Meanwhile, in a distant part of the house in a cool and 
pleasant room, Charles and Denhy were seated in company 
with four girls. 

The latter played, and sang, and chattered until they 
were summoned to join the dinner table, while the discon- 
solate Americans remained to be entertained by the major- 
domo. 

“ Confounded bore,” said Denhy. “ I wish ‘we could give 
those fellows a cowhiding.” 

“ If we can only carry off the girls with their mother,” 
answered Charles. 

“Fine,” continued the young man, “only it will be a 
deuce of a race. We must gain a day on the rascals.” 

Charles knew this, and knew also that they must have 
a goodly escort. 

But he had doubted not that, on a pinch they would find 
a friend in the excellent colonel. 

It was very far from satisfactory^ to be immured in a 
distant part of the building, while the fair girls, whom 
they loved, were in the society of their rivals and deadly 
foes. 

But both the young men, knowing that the self-sacrifice 
was inevitable, bore up against depression, and were pres- 
ently rewarded for their pains. 

They were joined by the young ladies. 

Several gentlemen had called, and monte being pro- 
posed — a game which often led to high words, and was 
generally made the excuse for drinking— the females 
gladly withdrew. 

It was late when, at a hint from Norah, who was de facto 
the mistress of the house, the lovers parted. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


81 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE MAN OF ALL WORK. 

The apartments occupied by the young Americans, con- 
sisting of a large, double bedded room, and ante-chamber 
and dressing-room, were at some distance from the general 
dwelling. 

It was a sort of pavilion, connected to the main house 
by means of a passage. 

They enjoyed perfect liberty, and could step out into the 
garden without going through the main dwelling. 

They were compelled next day to breakfast alone. 

The marquis and his son, after appearing to yield to the 
wishes of the colonel, were to take their departure that 
day. 

While they were conversing over the pleasant morning 
meal, a shadow darkened the window. 

Looking up, they saw their faithful attendant, Watson. 

He was dressed Mexican fashion, and looked rather 
comical in consequence. 

“ Come in,” said Charles; ‘‘any news?” 

“Well, sir; yes, sir. That there rascally Maffei, the 
marquis’ man, has been a pumping away in the kitchen,” 
he answered. 

“Pumping what?” asked Charles, dryly. 

“All about you, sir,” continued Watson. 

“And what did he learn?” added Charles. 

“Not much. I’m a bit of a favorite down stairs, and a 
nod was as good as a wink to the girls. I gave ’em a hint 
to say you were two Englishmen.” 

“ And did he believe them?” quietly demanded Denby. 

‘ ‘ I don’t know, but I should advise you to keep precious 
close, as he’s a prowling about,” answered Watson. 

“^1 right; pull down the blind, and keep a watch on 
the fellow,” ssid his master. 

Watson obeyed, pulled down the blind so that no one 
could see in from without, and then glided out as cautious- 
ly as he had come in. 

As he did so, he had just time to see the form of Maffei 
disappearing in a thicket in company with one of the fe- 
male domestics. 

Maffei, on the previous night, had obtained certain infor- 
mation that there were two visitors in the house, who for 
some reason or other were living in seclusion. 

Several of the servants, who knew him well, had unsus- 
piciously satisfied him on this point; but when he came to 
demand further particulars, he found a general disinclina- 
tion to satisfy him. 


82 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


But how far Maffei was deceived we shall presently see. 

He went into his master’s room with such necessaries for 
his toilet as were required before breakfast, and found the 
marquis already up. 

“Well, have you found anything out?” was the eager 
demand. 

“ Si, senor, two men — white men, are hid in the house,” 
replied the domestic. “ The servants, who seem all in 
league with the strangers, tell me they are Englishmen.” 

‘^Of course you know better; but have you seen them?” 
asked the marquis. 

“No, not yet.” 

‘ ‘ Demonio, there is indeed some rascality going on — and 
yet,” he added, as his son rolled out of the bed, where he 
had been listening to the conversation, ‘ ‘ what have we to 
fear? As long as we have our hostage there is no harm 
can be done.” 

“ But what are these fellows doing up here?” asked the 
son; “ I tell you that unless we can rid ourselves of these 
leeches, something disagreeable will happen.” 

“ What can be done? Colonel Fitzpatrick is evidently 
in league with them, ” urged the marquis. 

“ I am sure of it!” cried the count; “ the whole is a con- 
spiracy to defraud us of the girls and their fortunes, under 
which I am not prepared to sit contented.” 

“Nor I,” said the marquis, gloomily; “but we must act 
with great caution and circumspection. The colonel is a 
dangerous man to offend.” 

“ I know he is, but yet it is impossible that things can go 
on as they are,” responded the count. “I suppose they 
go out sometimes?” 

“ They have been out ostrich hunting and are very fond 
of a gallop on the prairies,” replied Maffei. 

“Look you here, Maffei,” said the viscount, in a low, 
hushed tone, “while these men live, while they haunt us, 
you know in what danger we are. The terrible secret can- 
not be forever kept — the secret that you know of ; should 
the madame die an investigation would take place, and 
where should we be?” 

‘‘ Where?” replied Maffei, with a grin. 

“You know Eafael Mendez?” continued the viscount. 

“ I do,” was the dry response. 

“Well, find him; he is surely to be picked out, and let 
him know this — that for the destruction of those two men 
there is a hundred ounces to be earned. ” 

Maffei held out his hand. 

The count shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to his 
father. 

Whcit do you wantj picaro?” said tUe 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


88 

^‘Something on account, and then consider the thing 
done, ” was the reply. 

The marquis put his hand in his pocket, took out a purse 
and handed it to a servant. 

‘‘The rest when the work is done,” he significantly re- 
marked; “ and now to finish our toilet.” 

Presently the marquis and his son entered the breakfast- 
room with as much calmness as if they had not been plot- 
ting two deliberate murders. 

They found the don and the girls waiting for them. 

But something had occurred in the meantime of which 
they had no suspicion. 

Charles Leicester had written a note to the colonel, say- 
ing that their presence was known to the marquis, and that 
hence concealment was useless. 

The colonel had seen them, and immediately after 
Charles, Arthur and some peons had gone out for a morn- 
ing ride. 

The girls expected their return every moment, and were 
rather anxious about the matter. 

Presently there was a loud ringing of the outer bell, and 
then a clatter of horses’ hoofs. 

The major-domo entered and said the senors had re- 
turned. and would pay their respects to the colonel and 
ladies. 

The marquis and his son exchanged a rapid glance. 

Picturesquely dressed in the Mexican hunting costume, 
Charles and Arthur entered, and walking up to the colonel, 
shook hands, bowing with ceremonious politeness to the 
ladies. 

‘^I believe,” said the colonel, affably, with a bow to the 
Mexicans and another to the two Americans, ‘ ‘ you gentle- 
men have met before?” 

“We have,” replied the marquis, dryly, “ and I am sur- 
prised to find officials of the American embassy so far 
from headquarters.” 

“The love of sport,” observed Charles Leicester, accept- 
ing the seat offered and a cup of chocolate from the fair 
hand of Norah; “we have heard much of the game up in 
these quarters.” 

“ You will find plenty of what you call sport,” replied 
the marquis, “ when you have exhausted the resources of 
our friend the don, perhaps you may try the Hacienda 
Almeda. It is famous for its American tigers.” 

“ So I have heard,” said Charles, in the most unconcerned 
tone, but with a look which had a word of meaning in it. 

The swarthy countenance of the marquis reddened, and 
a sharp answer might have followed but for the interposi- 
tion of the colonel 


84 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


As we make up so large a j)arty, suppose we have out 
Sebastian, and*try our fortune in the woods. There have 
been panthers seen within an hour’s ride.” 

“ With all my heart,” said Charles. 

“ At your service,” replied the marquis, rising. “I will 
go and prepare.” 

And he and his son retired hurriedly. 

'‘Gentleman,” observed the colonel, gravel;yr, “beware 
how you act. That man is dangerous, but he is my guest 
and so are his wards. Did I not know how bad a man he 
is and how wretched would be the fate of these girls in his 
hands, I dared not violate hospitality as I am doing. But 
above all, beware.” 

“ My dear sir, for their sakes as well as our own, we shall 
be careful,” said Charles, gayly. “I and Arthur here are 
not afraid.” 

“But,” observed the punctilious Irish gentleman, “above 
all, do not exchange hot words while you are in my house. 
I am bound to treat all my guests with equal consideration. 
I suppose you girls will be coming?” 

It required no second question. 

It was a bright cavalcade which issued from the gates of 
the ranch. 

The marquis and his son were outwardly very jubilant 
and showed no outward signs of vexation, 

A slightly triumphant gleam in their eyes might have 
been accounted for by a very simi)le fact. 

Ten minutes before the party issued forth, a mounted 
Mexican might have been seen disappearing toward the 
south. 

He rode with desperate and hot haste, and soon disap- 
peared behind some willows that skirted a small stream. 

It was Maffei on his errand of crime. 

Unconscious of any danger, the greater number of the 
party gave themselves up to the happiness of the moment. 

The colonel rode before with the marquis and his son, 
whom he engaged in earnest conversation. 

Charles Leicester rode with Miriam on one side and No- 
rah on the other, and like a true gentleman, without any 
respect to his secret and private feelings, divided his con- 
versation pretty fairly between them. 

Being tall and admirably well proportioned, and riding 
like a centaur or an English fox hunter, his picturesque 
costume became him well, and his lady companions, in their 
inmost hearts, thought that they had never seen so splen- 
did-looking a hero. 

Strange that the feelings of Norah, so carefully kept un- 
der maidenly restraint, were a complete secret to Charles 
Leicester. 


WIFE on SLAVE? 


85 


He had not the remotest, the faintest suspicion of what 
passions were raging within her gentle heart. 

But Miriam was not so blind. 

She saw as clearly as tlie girl what was going on in her 
bosom, but as yet it may be truly said that the knowledge 
only occasioned sorrow on Norah’s own acount. 

Denby, more liglit-hearted than Charles, took charge of 
Maria and Di, entertaining them in his laughing way. 

In front of the whole party went Sebastian, the guide, 
while the rear was kept up by a large party of peons and 
hunters. 

Several of these were scattered over the plain, looking 
out for the track of animals worthy of their steel. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE HUNT. 

A TWO hours’ ride brought them to a rather wild spot; a 
number of rocky hills of some extent surrounded on all 
sides by a belt oi forest, which stretched far away into the 
interior of the land. 

The peons at once erected a large tent for their master’s 
guests, and the men of the party alighting, took their guns, 
and prepared, under the guidance of Sebastian, to enter the 
wood. 

Several well trained dogs accompanied the hunters. 

Some shepherds who had suffered much from the de- 
structive proclivities of the panthers had tracked them to 
their lair. 

Charles followed the game closely, with Watson at his 
side. 

Denby was nearer at hand, Avith the colonel and his Mex- 
ican guests at no great distance. 

In this way they came to a gloomy, wild spot, where a 
number of trees were closely intertAvined over some run- 
ning water. 

A growl from the dogs indicated that they were aAvare 
of the presence of game. 

A roar, something between that of the lion and the mew- 
ing of a wild cat, indicated the position occupied by the 
panther, which next instant Avas seen on a bough, with tAvo 
of its young by its side. 

Charles, his "color heightened, being in advance of all the 
others, took steady aim and fired at the unfortunat(> beast, 
just as it took a leap at the party of hunters . 

He fired, we have said, but another shot was fired at the 
same time, and there lay, it is true, the tiger cat in the 
agonies of death, but there also lay Charles Leicester on 
his back, to all appearances dead. 


86 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


My Godr^ said Denby, wildly, “who fired that shot?’’ 

And he looked around eagerly at every one of the 
hunters. 

The colonel was conversing at some distance with the 
marquis and viscount, and all three were leaning on their 
guns. 

Denhy put his gun on the ground, and stooped over his 
unfortunate friend. 

He tore off his poncho, opened his tunic and found a 
wound in his breast. 

All crowded around. 

“ Give him air!” cried the distracted young man. “ For 
the love of Heaven, does any one understand surgery?” 

“ Stand back, all,” said the colonel, fiercely, “stand back, 
all. Let some search the woods ; this is a cold-blooded and 
savage assassination. A hundred ounces for the mur- 
derer; he will be known by his empty gun.” 

The peons and hunters dispersed in all directions. 

“lam something of a doctor,” said the colonel, as he 
leaned over the livid face of the wounded man, and felt 
his pulse; “he is dangerously wounded. Let us stanch 
the blood, and then bear him to the tent.” 

“Will he die?” gasped Denby. 

“I can say nothing,” replied the colonel; “some vile, 
foul play has been at work here,’' he added, fiercely and 
angrily. “But there, you, Sebastian, are good at wounds ; 
bind this up carefully.” 

The man, an experienced hunter, stooped and examined 
the Avound. 

As he did so, he shook his head, but made no remark. 

As the shot was fired, Wilson darted away to a spot 
where he had seen the smoke of a gun. 

He now returned, and stood over his master. 

“There was some rascal in ambush yonder,” he whis- 
pered to Denby. ‘ ‘ I should very much like this minute to 
know the whereabouts of Maffei.” 

Denby's eyes flashed with unwonted fire. 

“Keep a good lookout, my man,” he said, in a fierce 
tone ; “this foul crime shall not go unpunished.” 

All this time Charles Leicester lay wholly insensible; ex- 
cept for a slight, almost inaudible moaning, he might have 
been dead. 

The Mexican hunter soon, however, stanched the wound, 
and one of the hunters producing a flask of very choice 
brandy, a little Avas forced between his set and clinched 
teeth. 

By the orders of the colonel, a litter Avas being made of 
leaves and branches. 

All the hunters and peons brought in the same report. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


87 


Not any sign was to be seen of the assassin or assassins, 
though at one time voices were heard at no great distance 
under cover of the woods. 

But though several stole up carefully in the direction 
thus indicated, no trace of the villains could be found. 

The insensible form of one who, a few minutes before, 
had stood ei-ect, a perfect specimen of youthful and manly 
beauty, was now lifted on to the litter, and being carried 
by six strong and lithe Mexicans, the sad procession set 
out. 

The marquis and tl)e count had made few remarks be- 
yond inveighing against the folly and madness of inex- 
perienced sportsmen, and they now walked behind the 
cortege at some little distance. 

The colonel and Denby walked close to the head of their 
unfortunate friend. 

“I cannot make it out,” observed the warm-hearted 
Irishman. “ I cannot conceive how such an unfortunate 
accident could have occurred. ” 

‘ ‘ My dear sir, ” said Denby, ‘ ‘ it was no accident. Where 
is Maffei, the confidential servant of the marquis?” 

“ But,” urged the colonel. 

“It is not the first time the wretch has attempted to 
murder my friend,” continued the young nobleman. 
“ Should my friend die, I shall hold them answerable.” 

“You horrify me,” answered the Irishman. 

“ They knew we were in the house, and just before we 
left for the hunting party, the rascal Maffei was missed. 
But what is to be done? We approach the tents.” 

'Aladre de Dios T cried Colonel Fitzpatrick, bursting 
out into a regular Mexican cry, “ what shall we do? Shall 
I go forward, or will you?” 

“ I will go,” said Denby, sadly ; “I never did and I never 
will flinch from duty.” 

Upon which he hurried forward, reaching the tent be- 
fore any of its inmates caught sight of the gloomy pro- 
cession. 

The day was hot, and the four girls were seated in the 
shadowed recess of the canvas habitation. 

The young man entered abruptly. 

Something in his manner was contagious. 

The girls leaped to their feet, and approached him hur- 
riedly. 

“What is the matter?” they cried, with one voice. 

“ Dear Miriam,” he said, taking her hand, “be calm and 
brave. You will want all your nerve.” 

“ Charles!” she gasped, while Norah put her hand upon 
her heart, and leaned, white and shivering against tho 
tent pole, 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


“ Is wounded. While killing a panther, he was shot at 
in some unaccountable manner.” 

“ He is not dead ?” she asked, in that unnaturally calm 
tone which women sometimes have strength to assume. 

“No; and there is every hope. But he must have ex- 
treme quiet. Hark! here they come,” he continued. 

All the girls were spellbound with grief and astonish- 
ment, but on the face of Norah was a look of fixed horror, 
which the others were too excited to perceive, while Miriam 
seemed to gather up all her strength to do her duty by the 
sick man, who had given her his whole heart and young 
affections. 

There seemed a kind of strange belief in her mind that 
he would die, leaving her solitary and bereaved in a world 
of shadow and sorrows. 

All stood back reverently as the bearers brought in the 
motionless body. 

Not a word was spoken until the domestics had retired, 
and then Miriam turned to the colonel, and spoke. 

“Will he die?” she said, in a dreamy kind of way. 

Neither the marquis nor the count had made any at- 
tempt to enter the tent. 

“ We commend him to the mercy of God. In the first 
place, we must send for Father Sanchez, who is as good a 
doctor as I know; then, Norah, for your traveling litter 
with the mules. All this will take time, so that we must 
pass the night here. It will not be necessary for you girls 
to remain.” 

“I shall remain,” said Miriam quietly, “he is my af- 
fianced husband.” 

“I shall sleep with my sister,” added Maria. 

“We cannot leave our guests,” put in Norah, rather 
timidly. 

“Willful girls will have their way,” said the colonel, 
kindly. “ I will go and send off the messengers.” 

“What think you of him?” asked the marquis, as the 
colon(d went out. 

“ He is as bad as be can be,” replied the colonel, dryly, 

‘ ‘ and cannot be moved. I have sent for the good Father 
Sanchez, and he will decide.” 

“Had we not better relieve you of our wards?” asked the 
marquis, in continuation. 

“Your ward, Miriam,” said the colonel, dryly, “has just 
told me that she is this young man's affianced wife, and 
that she intends to remain and nurse him.” 

“ Demonios .^” cries the marquis, furiously ; “what means 
this monstrous folly? The gin must be taught that she is 
my ward.” 


WTFE on SLAVE f 89 

And he moved toward the tent with a fierce and angry 
countenance. 

“Pardon me,” said the colonel, standing immediately be- 
fore him, “my sick guest cannot be disturbed. A quarrel 
just now will be unseemly. To-morrow you can come and 
claim your wards, but over the body of a dying man I can 
I have no squabbling. ” 

The marquis bit his lip. 

It is true, the words “dying man ” rather soothed his 
feelings, and he reflected that one of them out of the way, 
the other could easily be got rid of. 

“ I will not intrude just now,” he haughtily observed; 
“but to-morrow shall come for my wards. In the mean- 
time, addois.” 

And, joining his son, the marquis rode off, mingled joy 
and hatred in his heart. 

The colonel, having sent off swift and trusty messengers, 
returned to where Denby was standing motionless over the 
body of his friend. 

There was much stertorous breathing, and the face was 
livid, but once or twice there was a faint opening of the 
eye, and an attempt to speak. 

This was at once checked by Denby, who took his friend’s 
hand. 

“ Do not speak, on your life,” he said, close to his ear. 
“ You are surrounded by friends, and the doctor is at 
hand. When he comes, we will hear what you have to 
say.” 

There was a faint pressure, and yet the lips tried to 
move. 

The girl, too, was leaning over him, and like a phantom 
whisper came the word “Miriam.” 

“She is here,” was the answer, and again the fingers 
closed upon hers, and quiet reigned. 

A bed had been hastily erected for the colonel and 
Denby. 

Night fell, and it was arranged that two of the young 
and beautiful nurses should be watchers at a time. 

Except moisten his lips, they could do nothing. 

Thus the hours passed, Denby walking up and down 
smoking. 

The colonel lay at length in his tent doing the same ; 
presently he arose. 

“Horses approaching,” he said. “Peons and hunters, 
be on the look-out.” 

His orders were obeyed, and soon there came dashing in 
one of the hunters, to say that the priest and major-domo 
were at hand with the mules and the litter. 


90 WIFE OR ^LAVEf 

Five minutes elapsed, and then Father Sanchez entered 
the tent. 

“ Leave me,” he said, gently, to the women, and as soon 
as they were out, prepared, with the assistance of the 
major-domo, to partially strip the patient, taking off his 
bandages, and examining him keenly. 

‘‘Well?” asked the colonel. 

“ A very dangerous wound,” said the priest, as he deftly 
extracted the ball ; ‘ ‘ but I fancy no really vital part is 
touched. Great care, quiet, and nursing are needed,” he 
added. 

The advice of the worthy priest was taken in every way, 
and all having been done that could be, the camp resumed 
its peaceful attitude. 

The four girls were once more the watchers of the sick 
man, while the priest joined the colonel and Denby. 

“How did it happen, my friends?” asked the worthy 
priest. 

The colonel related all he knew. 

“ But, was it not an accident?” urged the priest. 

“No,” replied Denby, emphatically. “I have a strong 
conviction that the Marquis of Trejico is at the bottom of 
the matter.” 

The priest looked surprised, and Colonel Fitzpatrick at 
once put him in possession of the main facts of the case. 

The priest, who, though to a certain extent a prejudiced 
man, was perfectly honest, could not conceal his horror 
and disgust. 

“ It is a terrible charge to bring against any one, ” he 
said, “but I have reason to believe the person you speak of 
capalle of any desperate deed. You must be on the 
watch.” 

Denby told him he should be for the future, wdiile, should 
anything happen to his friend, he was determined that 
the marquis and his son should be visited with condign 
punishment. 

“Be careful,” replied the priest, gravely; “it is not for 
me fully to explain, but circumstances are known to me 
which make me wish you would leave this part of the 
country as soon as possible.” 

“ Can you give me no hint?” asked Denby. 

“Your friend’s attempted assassination was doubtless 
the work of some of the robbers of the prairies, who are at 
the disposal of any man who has money. The sooner you 
are out of their reach, the better.” 

In the morning Charles Leicester was still very weak, 
and, though conscious of what was going on around him, 
unable to speak. 

It was determined to pass the whole day on the spot, so 


WIFK OR SLAVE? 91 

as not to move diirinp^ the noontide heats, and then to take 
their departure for the hacienda. 

Two of the girls remained in constant attendance, to 
minister to his wants, and mark the slightest change in his 
manner and looks. 

Miriam made no pretense of concealing her sorrow, 
and could scarcely be persuaded to leave him for one mo- 
ment. 

The absence of the marquis and his son, who had so op- 
portunely taken their departure, was a source of great 
gratification. 

Norah generally accompanied her, but she was forced to 
restrain her feelings within bounds, and not for worlds 
would she have betrayed the weary state of grief and sor- 
row into which she had fallen since the accident. 

About an hour before sundown the priest declared that 
his patient might be removed, and he having been placed 
in a litter slightly slung between two mules that walked 
with a care and steadiness indicative of a knowledge of 
their important task, the procession started. 

The whole party rode slowly, the girls forming the par- 
ticular escort of the sick man, and in this way about mid- 
night they reached the hacienda, where Charles was re- 
moved to his room and handed over to the priest and some 
of the more experienced women of the establishment. 

It was about twelve o’clock next day, and just when 
Miriam and Norah were about to visit the sick man, that 
the marquis came in search of his wards. 

“You cannot want them while you have a sick house,” 
he said, “ and so I came to relieve you of them.” 

“My dear marquis,” replied the colonel, with grave 
urbanity, “ the house must be kept quiet; we can receive 
no visitors,” he significantly added, “and Norah and Di 
would be very dull without your charming wards.” 

The marquis bit his lip. 

“You are very good; they can remain until Saturday, 
on wiiich day I will relieve you of their presence,” said the 
marquis. 

“Say Monday,” responded the urbane Irishman ; “ Sun- 
day is a great day with the senoras.” 

And so the matter was finally settled, the marquis re- 
tiring with rage in his heart, and vowing that never again 
should the artful colonel entrap him in the way he had 
done. 

There were some crumbs of comfort under the circum- 
stances, however. 

Charles Leicester might die after all, and the girls, 
though in the society of their lovers, would not dare to act 


92 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


in defiance of his wishes, while he retained possession of 
that sacred hostage, their mother. 

“ By Heaven!” said his son, “ we have dilly-dallied long 
enough. We must make an end of the matter.” 

^‘You are right. I will steel my heart to every other 
consideration,” replied his father, “and make these re- 
bellious girls yield. But they must be removed to where 
none of their friends can turn up to thwart our plans.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE RIVAL NURSES. 

Charles Leicester lay on a fragrant bed, i^rovided with 
everything that could tend to his ease and comfort. 

When Denby paid him a visit during the stay of the 
marquis in the house, he found that he was apparently 
much improved. 

“Miriam?” asked Charles. 

“ Is down-stairs, and as soon as that old shark of a 
guardian of hers has taken his departure, will doubtless 
pay you a visit,” continued the young man. 

“He here!” gasped Charles. 

“ Never fear, the colonel will not allow them to depart.” 

“ Who is that?” ejaculated Charles. 

“ I have come,” said Norah, showing herself at the head 
of the bed, “to administer some refreshment by the 
priest’s orders.” 

A slight shade of disappointment came over his face, 
which the girl was not slow to perceive. 

It went to her heart, but she allowed nothing of it to be 
seen, making way slightly so that he could perceive the 
presence of Miriam. 

She was pale, anxious, and yet when his eyes were fixed 
with earnest love upon her face, she could not restrain a 
slight blush. 

“Papa wants your presence for the midday meal,” said 
N orah, to Denby ; ‘ ‘ we will take care of your patient. ” 

“Much better than I could. In the sick-room men are 
but bears,” he said. 

The young man hastened away, hoping to be repaid for 
his self-denial by enjoying the society of his beloved Maria. 

Denby found the two young ladies awaiting him with 
the colonel. 

The meal was dispatched, upon which the colonel went 
off in search of that sleep which had become a necessity of 
life. 

“Will you imitate my father?” said Di, with a smile, 
“ for of course you know that he has gone for his nap.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 93 

“No, if you ladies will keep me company,” was the 
gallant reply. 

“ I will answer for myself,” continued Di, with an arch 
look at Maria, ‘ ‘ but must leave you to the society of the 
Senora Lasso, while I give some orders. ” 

And merrily she tripped from the room. 

“ What do you thinK of Mr. Leicester?” asked Maria, as 
soon as they were alone. 

“He is progressing favorably,” replied Denby, “but it 
will be some time before he will be able to move, which 
gives your guardian a great advantage over us.” 

“ In what way?” she asked. 

“ Rely upon it, a man so desperate as the marquis, who 
is at the bottom of this foul assassination, will lose no time. 
Now that he knows we are in the land, he will have less 
scruples than ever,” he continued; “as long as you are in 
his power there is everything to fear.” 

“We have so many friends,” she urged. 

“But he will soon find means to transport you else- 
where,” he added; “still, if you and Miriam will have de- 
termined courage, all may yet be well.” 

“We will never yield, not even to force,” said Maria, 
firmly. 

“ Bravely spoken,” answered Denby; “but now, as to 
what is to be done when Charles is convalescent. Will 
your mother agree to fiy with us and you, and seek pro- 
tection ?” 

“She will do anything that is for the interest and service 
of her daughters,” replied Maria. 

And after some further discussion of their plans they 
reverted to one of those conversations which, however 
agreeable to the parties concerned, is of no moment to the 
general reader. 

Charles Leicester, though deeply grateful for the presence 
of Miriam, was not in a fit state to speak. 

But then, lying there, he could hear her speak, listen to 
the sweet music of her voice, and drink in deep draughts 
of love. 

He could feel the gentle touch of her fingers, as she 
softly raised his head, to enable Norah to smooth his 
pillow. ^ 

Little did Charles Leicester think of what a sad tragedy, 
so to speak, was going on there. 

He loved Miriam, and knew that she had lavished on 
him the rich treasures of her affections, but he little 
svispected that one even more gentle, more refined, and to 
some minds more winning even than Miriam, had cast her 
love upon the waters with little hope of its returning after 
mapy or few days. 


94 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


Miriam scarcely ever took her eyes off the sufferer, but 
when she did so, it was with sincere sorrow that she occa- 
sionally caught a glimpse of an expression on Norah’s 
countenance which was scarcely to be misunderstood. 

It was pained, yearning, yet so sweet and loving, that 
Miriam felt sorry for her. 

How she would have liked to have taken her to her 
heart and tried to comfort her, but reserve and maidenly 
modesty forbade all reference to the delicate subject, and 
Miriam was constrained to think and not speak. 

She could not hope to remain long in the house with 
Charles, whose convalescence would take time ; and, when 
she took her departure, who but Norah would have the 
pleasure, the pleasant duty, of nursing him? 

A hot, jealous pain went to her very heart as she 
thought of this. 

She glanced at Norah, and every charm of her beauty 
seemed to imprint itself upon her brain. 

She did not believe Charles to be either fickle or treacher- 
ous; but, placed under such circumstances, under such 
seductive influences, could he help being led avray to dis- 
loyalty? 

Miriam became angry with herself as these thoughts 
filled her mind, and she dismissed them with promptitude. 

But the sentiment is one which is so treacherous and de- 
ceptive that she found it coming back every now and then 
with increased energy. 

About this time the priest entered and walked slowly 
to the bedside of the patient. 

He examined him keenly as he slept, and when he awoke, 
looked at his tongue and felt his pulse. 

Miriam watched him with gleaming and anxious eyes, 
and as he left the bedside, after some kindly words to the 
sick man, followed him into the passage. 

“Well, father,” she asked, in a rather cool and abrupt 
way, “ what of him?” 

‘ ‘ He is doing as well as a man could be expected to do 
under the circumstances,” he said, gently, “and I believe, 
unless some evil turn appears, will recover to a certainty.” 

“ Will it be a long illness?” she continued. 

“ He will scarcely leave his room under a month,” he re- 
torted, “but then, probably, he will be quite recovered.” 

“Thank you,” she said, with a low and courteous bow, 
as she turned to re-enter the room. “A month, and I shall 
not be here. He will be alone with her. ” 

It was indeed a terrible pang, one which became addi- 
tionally acute as she remarked how Norah was shifting 
his pillow at this moment, with what gentleness and ten- 
der care. 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


95 


She approached rather abruptly. 

“He asked for you, Miriam,” she deprecatingly ob- 
served, “but I told him you were out of the room. I am 
not so good a nurse as you are; but I try my best.” 

“You are both admirable,” he said, in a low tone, “and 
I thank you from my heart. It is pitiable for a man to 
lie here so utterly helpless at the mercy of any, but Avhen 
there is such kindness shown, it is almost tempting.” 

And again silence fell upon the scene until the girls were 
summoned away, and a nurse girl took their place. 

The dinner was rather a silent and dull affair, and it 
was not until it was over that the colonel referred to the 
visit of the marquis and his strict demand for their return 
on Monday. 

Miriam’s face fell. 

“ Must we really go?” she asked, quite pitifully, for one 
so proud. 

“I really cannot venture to resist your guardian any 
longer,” the colonel kindly remarked. 

‘ ‘ But I should have liked to be sure of Mr. Leicester’s 
convalescence,” she answered, blushing. 

“He will have every care, and both Norah and Di can 
ride over and give you information,” said the colonel. 

“ I have no doubt of his receiving every care and atten- 
tion,” said Miriam, with some little spirit, “but he is my 
betrothed, and I am naturally anxious.” 

“Of course you are, my brave, good girl,” retorted the 
colonel; “but, rely upon it, he will be safe.” 

“Safer than under the roof of the marquis,” retorted 
Norah, a little vexed. 

“I know,” said Miriam, reproaching herself bitterly for 
her implied injustice ; “I know that he could nowhere be 
safer than here, but I am anxious. I have revealed all the 
secrets of my heart to you,” she whispered, “and I love 
him.” 

“You are my friend, Miriam,” said Norah, with consid- 
erable dignity ; “ and he shall be held a sacred charge. You 
shall hear of every change, and I will bring you messages 
from him. Will that satisfy you, exigeante and jealous 
one?” 

Miriam blushed to the eyes. 

She knew well by the tone in which Norah spoke that 
she did not use the word jealous in its comprehensive or 
rather jealous sense, but rather in a pettish, reproachful 
way. 

“Were I placed in the ordinary position of a girl en- 
gaged to be married to the man of my choice, my dear 
Norah,” said Miriam, gravely, “I should speak and act dif- 
ferently. But I am beset by foes — by base, treacherous, 


m 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


and cruel foes. My mother is hostage for my conduct, and 
the future is so dark and clouded.” 

They had i*etired during this coversation to an alcove, 
whei'e they spoke, concealed by curtains. 

As Miriam finished, she cast herself in the other’s arms 
and wept bitterly. 

No rah, much moved, pressed her to her bosom and tried 
to comfort her. 

“Miriam,” said the brave girl, “you have trusted me, 
and you will not find me unworthy of your trust. I will 
be your friend, your sister, and if necessary, will prove it 
— by being faithful unto death.” 

Little did Norah know the force of what she was saying. 

“I believe you,” said Miriam, wiping her eyes, “and 
will trust you with Charles as with myself.” 

They now returned to the rest of the company. 

Wlien the hour came to separate, the girls went in a dep- 
utation to the sick-room, where they found Wilson seated 
beside his master’s bed. 

“ You have been talking?” asked Denby, in some trepida- 
tion. 

“ Oh, no, sir. I only came in just to have a look at mas- 
ter,” he said, rising; “and seems to me he’s going on first- 
rate.” 

“All right, Wilson; thank you,” replied Denby. “You 
can go now.” 

But the look of Wilson, as he approached the door, said, 
unmistakably : “ Come,” and the young man followed him 

“ Is there anything the matter, Wilson?” he asked. 

“ Well, sir, as I was riding out just now with a message 
for the priest, that is, the doctor, I see that there rascal 
Maffei ent^^r a wood with one of the most truculent, ill- 
looking fellows you ever saw,” he replied. 

“Well?” 

“They were so busy, they didn’t see me; so, jumping 
off my horse, I followed ” 

“Well done, Wilson. You cannot be too cautious in 
this countr}^” cried Denby. 

“I reached a spot from which I could see this house, 
and I then saw Maffei pointing here. The conversation 
that passed, as far as I could understand it, was: 

“ ‘ What a fool you was to blunder so. Everything has 
to be done over again,’ said Maffei. 

“ ‘ Da ?;ero,’ replied the ill-looking rascal; ^it is true. 
How I made such a miss, I don’t know.’ 

“ ‘ Well, be careful the next time, or you will lose my 
master forever as a friend,’ was the reply.” 

Wilson, you are as sensible as you are brave. Keep a 


WIFK OR SLAVF f 

good look-out for Heaven’s sake— chiefly during the night,*’ 
he whispered. 

Touching his hat, the man retired. 

Denby returned to the sick-room, where he was to pass 
the night on a camp bedstead, in company with the Mexi- 
can nurse woman. 

The sick man had taken his potion, and the girls were 
taking their leave. 

Miriam was last, and all the others turned to speak to 
Denby while she said good-night. 

Good-night and'ha^Dpy dreams,” she said, with affected 
light-heartedness. 

“ Darling,” he whispered. 

Yes.” 

“ Say good-night, Charles, dear?” he asked. 

Good-night, Charles, dear,” she replied, in a most obe- 
dient tone. 

“And now, oh, my darling! kiss me, and I shall have 
pleasant and happy dreams all the night,” he added. 

She stooped, her face suffused vdth blushes, which were 
a mixture of happiness and shame. 

Charles had kissed her before, but she had never before 
been asked to kiss a man. 

Yet she did it without a murmur, and felt no regret when 
the maidenly sacrifice was completed. 

There was one who saw this by-play, and whose heart 
gave a great bound. 

But she turned away with a great sigh, and more than 
ever resolved to be true and faithful unto death. 

All retired after wishing Denby a good night’s rest. 

But he had no intention to take any sleep just yet. 

There was a little side room in which he could sit with- 
out a light, and look out upon the grounds. 

The words of the faithful and attached servant had made 
him extremely anxious, and he was resolved to watch 
carefully. 

This room was on the same veranda as ohat occupied by 
Charles. 

By closing the door, however, he could place it in com- 
plete darkness. 

He, however, felt compelled to do something to keep him- 
self awake, and therefore reverted to his usual cigar. 

He lighted one, drew behind a curtain and watched. 

Several times he tried his repeater, and the hours passed 
away. 

Presently, becoming very impatient and rather sleepy, 
he again sounded the useful watch, and found it was two 
o’clock. 

At that moment he saw a dark figure iinerge from the 


WIFE on SLAVE f 

pine thicket which separated the lawn from the lower gar- 
dens. 

It was a man wrapped in a poncho, and his face con- 
cealed by a flapping sombrero. 

He stepped lightly and cautiously toward the balcony, 
on which anyone could leap with perfect ease. 

He could make out nothing of his face. 

Denby, however, noticed that in his hand shone a bright 
steel. 

He felt for his revolver. 

The man advanced across the green, and almost reached 
the veranda. 

Denby put his hand upon the door handle as the man 
touched the balustrade of the veranda. 

At the same moment a shot was fired, a blazing flash 
passed before his eyes, and with a wild cry, the man fell 
backwards. 

Denby leaped out into the open air as some one rushed up. 

“I’ve settled him, my lord,” said the stern voice of Wil- 
son, the valet. 

Denby found a man, in the picturesque costume of the 
Mexican prairies, lying prone upon his face. 

“What have you done?” whispered the young man. 

Wilson approached to where the midnight assassin lay 
weltering in his blood, and turned him over. 

“See,” he said, pointing to the long, glittering knife 
which the other still clutched, and to the pistol in his belt. 

“ CarajoP^ muttered the wounded man, in a low, hushed 
voice, “what does it mean? A priest, a priest.”' 

There was a bustle in the garden now, and soon the colo- 
nel appeared, followed by several domestics, and as good 
fortune would have it, tlie priest himself. 

“What is the matter?” said the host, with a troubled 
glance at the wounded man. 

“ This rascal,” replied Denby, “ was in the act of entering 
the sick chamber, when this honest fellow came on his 
track and fired.” 

“Mercy — mercy! a priest. I will tell all,” muttered the 
wretched being on the ground. 

“Stand on one side,” said the priest, stooping to examine 
the wounds of the midnight marauder. 

They were very severe, he could see at once, but not 
necessarily fatal. 

Still the priest shook his head ; having a very strong 
suspicion with regard to the man whom he was examining, 
he was careful not to arouse his hopes, but rather to play 
upon his fears. 

“ Shall I die?” gasped the wounded man, watching the 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 99 

priest’s face by the light of a torch carried by the startled 
peons. 

“ Life is not in our hands,” said the priest. “What act 
of villainy were you about to commit? Eemember that I 
know you as a bandit and a robber of the prairies.” 

“ Kind sir, do not be hard on me,” whined the man, “ it 
is not my fault. ” 

“ Whose fault then, if not your own?” replied the priest 
sternly. 

“The marquis; he told me he was only a heretic,” 
answered the assassin. 

“The marquis,” was the stupefied cry of the colonel. 
“ Villian, can this be?” 

“ Only a heretic,” said one or two of the stupid and igno- 
rant Mexicans, who from this point of view were inclined 
to sympathize with their countryman. 

“ Let him be taken into the house,” exclaimed the priest, 
“ The man is severely wounded, and may die here before 
he can make a full confession.” 

“ That is for you,” muttered the bandit. 

“You have already mentioned your employer in public,” 
replied the priest, coldly, ‘ ‘ that you cannot withdraw. 
When you require the consolations of religion, I shall be 
prepared to give them.” 

The man was now carried into the house, secured in a 
room, and his wounds being dressed, left to the charge of 
two sturdy peons. 

It was three hours past midnight. 

“I think we had better all retire,” said the colonel, 
quietly. “ Things have become very serious, and I must 
think them over. If this fellow persists in his statement 
that he is a hired assassin employed by the marquis, I shall 
know what to do. 

All acquiesced, and the party soon dispersed to their 
various couches. 

The ladies, who had been aroused by the shot, were told 
by the domestics that a man had been fired at while trying 
to get into the house, and with this assurance, again retired 
to rest. 

Denby and Wilson rejoined Charles Leicester, who was 
lying restless and uneasy on his bed. 

“ Well?” was all he could ejaculate. 

Denby simply explained that a fellow armed in a sus- 
picious way, had been found prowling under the window 
with a long, pointed knife in his hand, and had been shot 
at by Wilson and severely wounded. 

Next morning, when the priest went around to see his 
patient, he found the guards lying in a state of stupor on 
the floor. 


loo 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


The prisoner had escaped. 

It was impossible to understand in any “way what had 
happened, and the two men, when they came to themselves, 
gave a very rambling account of what had taken place. 

The man said he was parched, and one of them had gone 
to procure some drink. 

While he was procuring some mild liquid for the sick 
man, he thought he might as well get something for him- 
self. 

What followed was very vague, indeed. 

They began drinking, and suddenly found three strangers 
in the room. 

These men forced them to drink a tumbler of strong 
pulque, after which they remembered nothing more. 

One thing appeared to corroborate their story. 

The mattress on which the wounded assassin had been 
placed was gone, as well as the poncho covering, proving 
that he had been carried off by some confederates, who, 
doubtless, had been concealed in the garden. 

“ This is unfortunate,” said the colonel with a frown. “ I 
had hoped, with that witness in my possession, to have 
coerced the marquis into resigning the custody of his 
wards.” 

‘ ‘ I will find him, ” cried the priest, dryly. ‘ ‘ I have a clew 
to the haunt of the rascals; but, meanwhile, be calm, and 
let no suspicious words pass your lips.” 

This was agreed to, and when in the afternoon the mar- 
quis and his retinue came to fetch away Miriam and Maria, 
no opposition was offered to their departure. 

Miriam contrived a short interview with Charles. 

“You will be stanch and true?” he said, the color com- 
ing into his white and pallid cheeks. “You will not desert 
me?” 

“Never,” replied Miriam, gently; “only get well as 
soon as possible.” 

And though Norah was in the room, looking out of the 
window, she stooped rapidly, and imprinted a kiss upon his 
forehead. 

He felt, too, more than one tear on his face, after which 
the young ^irl vanished. 

“ When T let you go to that fellow’s house again,” said 
the marquis, as soon as they were clear of the hacienda, 
“ it shall do him good. ’Tis disgraceful for a man who 
calls himself a gentleman to harbor fortune-hunting 
heretics and adventurers.” 

“I wish senor marquis,” replied Miriam, with a sneer, 
“ that you were as honest and honorable a gentleman as 
the two Americans.” 


WIFE OR SLA VE P 101 

And she spurred her horse to the side of Maria, and 
kept aloof from her guardian for the rest of the day. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

ISOLATION. 

Miriam and Maria, on their return to the hacienda, soon 
discovered that the marquis and his son had some plot or 
scheme in their heads. 

They were relegated to apartments wholly away from 
the rest of the house, and were told that until "further 
orders they were to receive no visitors. 

“ If that meddling fool of a colonel attempts to force his 
way hither,” said the marquis, in his most scornful tones, 
“ I will have the outer gate shut in his face.” 

“ He will arouse the indignation of the whole province,” 
replied Miriam sharply. 

“ Girl!” cried the other, with a dark and gloomy frown, 
‘‘do not try to defy me. I’m determined — with or without 
your consent — you will be my wife; and if you. don’t agree, 
remember how wholly you are in my power.” He con- 
tinued: “ I have important business to transact— business 
in connection with your fortune — and shall be one fort- 
night absent. But my orders will be strict— no visitors, 
no visiting. You will be watched — your every step 
dogged, and any want of obedience will be punished.” 

With these words he went out, leaving Miriam cold and 
impenetrable. 

Maria was with her mother, and she was, therefore, for 
a shoi t time alone. 

There was something preying upon her mind which she 
refused to make known even to her dear confederate and 
friend, her sister Maria. 

“ And I must remain here, cooped up in a prison— the in- 
mate of a cell — while Norah is by his side, speaking to him 
with her sweet, seductive voice,” she cried, aloud. 

And then the tempest of passion was relieved by a sud- 
den flood of tears. 

After a while her feelings more composed, she went to 
join her mother and sister. 

The marchioness, who, despite her forty years of age, 
was a singularly handsome woman, received her daughter 
with her usual sweet smile. 

Treachery and oppression had set their seal upon her. 

But still, not wholly deprived of her children, she had 
borne up with great courage against the fiendish tyrant 
who ruled her household with a rod of iron. 

It was to her inexplicable that her husband should 
have left her and her children to the guardianship of a 


102 


WIFE OB SLAVE? 




half-brother, for whom he had never cared, and whom, 
during his life, he had treated with singular coolness, if 
not aversion. 

The marquis had been killed during one of the many 
revolutionary risings of the state, and been buried faraway 
from his wife and children. 

The Marquis Trejico, who brought the news, also brought 
with him that which had made him guardian of the widow 
and her children. 

It was a strange and very unexpected act on the part of 
the marquis ; but the marchioness was not one to dispute 
the will and pleasure of her dead husband. 

“Well, my Miriam,” she said, “ why so sad and gloomy? 
Your gallant knight is recovering, I am told by Maria.” 

“ He is; but I cannot see him.” 

“Why not? It is not forbidden to call upon the young 
ladies?” urged the mother. 

“ It is. The marquis has gone on one of those mysteri- 
ous journeys, from which he always returns so haggard 
and pale, and he has left orders that, under no pretense 
whatever, are we to leave the hacienda. The servants have 
strict orders to restrain us,” she answered. 

‘ ‘ And shall we submit to this vile, this atrocious tyran- 
ny?” cried Maria. 

“My children,” said the marchioness, earnestly, “ it is 
quite clear your guardian is getting desperate. The money 
is yours — and your father left his whole fortune to you two, 
save a nominal sum to him at my death— and if he cannot 
force you into this unnatural marriage, he is probably a 
ruined man. Any other suitors would ask some account of 
his stewardship, and of this he is afraid.” 

“ What is to be done?” asked Miriam. 

‘ ‘ Escape while he is away, ” she answered ; “ it is our only 
hope. Once let him get us into America, and you have no 
mother. He will carry out his fiendish threat, and I am 
lost to you forever.” 

“Escape!” said Miiiam, with a vivid blush upon her 
pallid cheek. “How — where?” 

‘ ‘ Could we but throw ourselves on the protection of the 
law, all would be well,” the mother continued. “I am 
sure, could I see the colonel, he would help me.” 

Miriam remained silent some moments. 

Then she spoke. 

‘ ‘ The marquis is about to leave. He has given orders 
that we are to be kept in strict confinement, and not al- 
lowed to leave our own apartments,” she said; “but we 
must outwit him. Naomi is faithful and devoted, and with 
her help I will leave the house and ride over to the colo- 
nePs. He c nnot refuse to cojue and hear you,” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


103 


‘‘ And his high position gives an authority next only to 
the governor of the province,” continued the marchioness. 
“ He must, he shall do me justice. I have suffered this in- 
jury long enough.” 

A somewhat long discussion ensued, and then it was re- 
solved that Miriam should take an early opportunity of pay- 
ing a secret visit to the residence of the colonel. 

It was with deep satisfaction that Miriam laid her plans. 

Not only would she be able to take her mother’s message, 
but would she not see him? 

In the evening Miriam called to her favorite attendant 
Naomi. 

She was originally the child of a slave mother and father, 
but nad been manumitted by the late marquis, and created 
into the position of personal attendant on Miriam. 

To her she was deeply devoted, and on many occasions 
had shown her readiness to serve her. 

Naomi was young, pretty, active, and about the same 
height as her mistress. 

“Naomi,” said the young lady, with a smile, “I want 
you to render me a very great service.” 

The girl’s eyes sparkled. 

“ Anything my mistress wishes,” she said. 

“Now, Naomi,” replied Miriam, “you must be very 
careful. You are aware that my guardian has prohibited 
me not only from leaving the house, but from meeting any 
of my friends?” 

Naomi stared with her great, speaking eyes. 

“ The major-domo has orders to keep us in strict seclu- 
sion,” continued Miriam, “and all the servants who wait 
on us are to take his orders and report to him what we are 
doing.” 

“ But what does it mean, senorita?” asked the astonished 
girl. 

‘ ‘ It would be too long to explain, ” said Miriam, quietly ; 
“but this is what I want you to do. You are,” she said, 
with a sickly smile, “ rather a favorite with Don Jose, the 
major-domo?” 

“ Well, he does me the honor to make love to me,” laugh- 
ed Naomi; “ but I can’t bear his yellow face.” 

“ I suppose, if you wished to go into the town, and asked 
him to lend you a horse, he would let you have it?” asked 
Miriam. 

“ I think I could manage it,” replied Naomi. 

“ Do so, then, after breakfast to-morrow. Then come to 
me ; we will change clothes, and you shall remain in seclu- 
sion with my mother and sister while I am absent,” she 
continued. “I shall return as early as possible.” 

“ It shall be done,” said Naomi. 


104 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


“Bring your best clothes to my room to-night, ” added 
Miriam; “and don’t forget your large reboso — that will 
wholly conceal my face.” 

And she went up to inform her mother and sister of 
what she had done. 

Like all Mexican girls of her age and class, Naomi was a 
finished coquette. 

The major-domo was one of those middle-aged men who 
believe themselves complete Adonises, and able to win the 
most heart-whole of girls. 

Naomi knew where to find my gentleman, who was 
steward, major-domo, butler, all in one. 

He had entire command of the household, and reigned 
supreme in the absence of his master. 

Naomi found him in his own room, lounging in an Amer- 
ican easy chair, smoking his cigarette and sipping pulque, 
a duality of occupation which was almost too much for his 
nerves. 

Naomi gave him a flash of her black and speaking eyes, 
that went to the very heart of Senor Don Jose. 

“And to what do I owe the honor and pleasure of this 
visit?” he said, gallantly. 

“To the state of m'y wardrobe,” she replied, with a 
laughing smile. “ My rnistress has just paid me my wages, 
and I hear that Andreas has some new rebosos and some 
fine dresses from Mexico city itself.” 

“ Well?” said the steward. 

“I want you to-morrow,” she continued, “to lend me a 
horse, and let me go to make some purchases. I know my 
way — unless, indeed, you like to show it me,” she added, 
with a very wicked dart from her black eyes. 

Now, she knew full well that, under the circumstances, 
the steward dared not leave the hacienda. 

“I am sorry,” he began, “I cannot go; but of course 
you can have a horse. Mind you take care of yourself. 
Such good people as you are scarce.” 

And he handed her a glass of choice wine. 

It was then arranged that, at twelve precisely, the horse 
should be ready, and Naomi allowed to go on her shopping 
expedition. 

Now, neither Miriam or Naomi were without their fears 
and their doubts. 

Don Jose was a very cunning, shrewd, and unscrupulous 
man, and he would not be easily deceived. 

“You must try and laugh as I do,” said Naomi, when 
she spread the garments Miriam had to wear before her; 
“ and if he is gallant, you must let him kiss your hand — 
though,” she added with a start, “ that would be rather 
dangerous. Mine are rather too brown.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


m 

‘'I must wear gloves,” replied Miriam, stroking her 
black hair. “ I dare say my woman’s wit will carry me 
through. But be on the lookout when I return. We may 
liave to change parts and places.” 

Every feature of the whole alfair was discussed over and 
over again, and then all retired to rest with a fervent 
prayer that they might meet with success in their rather 
dangerous undertaking. 

Next day Naomi contrived another interview with Don 
Jose, during which she so flattered him, that he was quite 
in the seventh heaven of happiness. 

She even promised to sup with him that evening on her 
return. 

“ Good-bye, now,” she said, and went off to dress, direct- 
ing the horse to be brought to the entrance of the house in 
half an hour. 

It was fortunate for Miriam that it was the custom for 
Mexican women when out of doors, and especially when 
traveling alone, wholly to conceal their features by means 
of a hooded cloak. 

When, therefore, Miriam, admirably made up in the dis' 
guise of Naomi, issued forth and leaped into the saddle, 
the idlers who were looking on never thought of quest iom 
ing her identity. 

The outer gate of the hacienda was open for the exit of 
the servants and others, and nothing stood bet ween Miriam 
and liberty, except Don Jose, the major-domo. 

He was standing on the steps leading to his own par- 
ticular sanctum, ready to wish the young lady a last fare- 
well. 

Miriam saw him in time. 

She was walking her horse, but just as Jose advanced, 
she gave a loud, merry laugh, and whipping up the horse, 
sent the animal flying at no mean speed through the open 
gateway. 

“You jade, you!” muttered Don Jose, curling his thin 
mustache in his fingers ; “111 make you pay for that when 
you come home.” 

Meanwhile, Miriam was bounding over the wild prairie 
of Sonora in the direction of the colonel’s habitation. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE INVALID. 

That morning Charles Leicester had been pronounced as 
very much better. 

He was partially clothed, then wrapped in a rich pon- 
cho, and placed in an arm-chair. 

This was after breakfast, 


106 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


Denby and Di bad gone out into the grounds to breathe 
the freshness of the pine-apple grove, and Norah remained 
in charge of the sick man. 

‘‘ What shall I do?” Norah asked, gently ; “ talking is un- 
wise. Shall I read?” 

Charles pointed to a mandolin which hung on the wall. 

“ I presume you play that instrument, and sing?” he 
said, softly. 

Norah blushed. 

She did play the mandolin, and very well, too, while her 
voice was well suited to this rather peculiar instrument. 

But Norah reflected that the ballads and other ditties 
which suited the music and the voice were all on one sub- 
ject. 

And truly is music the food of love. 

But to refuse was out of the question, as she felt the eyes 
of the sick man flxed thoughtfully upon her. 

I can sing to the mandolin,” she said ; “but it is a poor 
instrument, and the songs which suit its compass are 
rather silly in words.” 

“ ’Tis the sweet voice, the melody that charms the soul, 
not the mere words,” he replied, in a soft, persuasive voice. 

Norah had not the heart to refuse. 

There are requests which can scarcely be declined, and 
this was one. 

A denial of his wish would have been set down to affect- 
ation, or even to the right cause — that she was afraid. 

And she was afraid. 

She knew how her heart was beating, she knew with 
what wild and foolish imaginings her soul was filled, but 
she also knew that rather would she die there on the spot 
than betray the secret of her soul. 

She arose, took down the mandolin, and seating herself 
on a low stool, began to tune the instrument. 

Her back was partially turned to the invalid, and her 
eyes bent on the ground. 

The Mexican songs she knew were far too passionate and 
amorous for her to risk one then. 

She would surely break down, and this was something 
too terrible for her to think of. 

Should he suspect? — she asked herself again and again. 

Presently she began. 

Poor girl, despite her every effort to be calm, despite the 
rare pressure she put upon herself, her very soul was 
poured out in gushmg song. 

So sweet, so richly melodious, so deep in compass was 
her voice, that Charles Leicester sat spellbound. 

, The very tears came to his eye^ as she finished a wild, 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 107 

passionate song, and sat confused and blushing on her 
stool. 

“Never did I hear anything half so sweet,” he said, in a 
low, hushed voice, that indicated the powerful emotion of 
his heart. “ Indeed, Norah, you have a beautiful and sym- 
pathetic voice. ” 

Norah made no reply. 

He had called her by her Christian name, and this bad 
sent her heart leaping into her mouth. 

There was a brief silence, very awkward and almost sig- 
nificant, which Norah, however, was the first to break. 

“And now, Mr. Leicester,” she said, “having played the 
part of hostess, even to singing to please the wounded 
knight, I must go and look after the household affairs.” 

“You have a housekeeper,” replied Charles, in a bitterly 
disappointed tone, “surely you need not leave me alone! I 
shall have all the blue imps, the song talks of, haunting me. ” 

Norah had caught his earnest, pleading look, and had 
not the heart to refuse him. 

She rang the bell and reseated herself, and in a few min- 
utes the pretty dame who regulated the household entered 
and took her mistress’ orders. 

As soon as she had done so she retired, and left the 
young people once more alone. 

Charles had no idea whatever of what he was doing, was 
not in fact aware that he was disloyal in act or deed to 
Miriam ; but there was a strange, voluptuous new happi- 
ness in reclining thus, sick and weak, to listen to the siren’s 
voice. 

If his heart did beat a little quicker than it ought to have 
done, it only associated the fact with his weakness ; but 
Norah, while yielding to the fascination of his presence, 
while drinking in, unawares, almost, deep draughts of love, 
knew that, to a certain extent, she was wrong. 

“ You will sing again; this time one of the ballads of this 
romantic country?” he urged, as she gave him a cooling 
drink. 

“ I am afraid they are too much for you,” she said, her 
eyes cast on the ground; “besides,” she added, speaking 
in a low, almost inaudible tone, “ what will people think of 
my singing love songs to an almost entire stranger.” 

“ Miss Fitzpatrick,” he cried, in genuine amazement, and 
yet, as he looked at her speaking countenance, with some 
confusion, “ surely there can be no harm in your enter- 
taining a poor, sick stranger?” 

“ And yet people might say that music and light songs 
are not suited to the sick chamber,” she replied, more 
archly. 

“ You are the most charming and delightful of your 


108 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


and to my dying day I shall know that to you I owe my 
rapid recovery,” he replied, in tones so earnest that Noran 
turned away in deep confusion. 

“I am glad to see that you are progressing so well,” said 
the rather cold and sarcastic voice of Miriam Di Lasso. 

Norah turned toward where she stood, very white and 
scared, but not wholly deprived of her mother wit. 

‘‘Mr. Charles Leicester is better,” she replied, “and has 
insisted, very much against my will, on my singing some 
of my mandolin ballads.” 

“ Which you sing with a power and sweetness which is 
quite new to me on this instrument,” said Charles, who at 
sight of Miriam felt all his old allegiance restored; “but 
come in, pray, and let me know the purport of your visit.” 

“ I come from mamma to see Colonel Fitzpatrick,” re- 
sponded Miriam. 

“ And not to see after the poor invalid?” added Charles, 
rather ruefully. 

“It seems to me,” she observed very dryly, “that the 
invalid is doing very well, and requires no pity or condo- 
lence from any one. ” 

“I will go and let my father know you are here,” said 
poor Norah, who felt ready to sink into the ground with 
shame at the evident insinuation contained in Miriam’s 
words, and she glided from the room. 

“ Miriam,” began Charles, in an appealing tone, '‘will 
you not come near me, or must I rise and fetch you?” and 
he made as if he would have carried out his threat. 

Miriam, still cold and stiff in her manner, approached 
the invalid’s chair, and, as she did so, thought she had 
never seen him look so handsome. 

“ My own darling!” he cried, as he caught her reluctant 
hand and held it in his own; “why are you so cold and 
shy — have I done anything to offend you?” 

“Nothing,” she answered. “What could you have 
done?” 

“Miriam, you are my future wife, and by that token 
should have no secrets from me. Surely your faith in me 
is not so scant but that you leave me free to enjoy the 
society of others of your sex?’' 

“Oh,” said Miriam, trying to turn the matter off with a 
laugh; “ surely you do not accuse me of the mean vice of 
jealousy?” 

“I?” exclaimed the delicious hypocrite. “Nothing of 
the kind, and yet you did not seem pleased when you 
found Norah and me together. But a truce to any trifling. 
My heart is wholly yours, and though I feel deep gratitude 
to my lovely nurse, no other sentiment than the purest 
friendship is possible betw^een us.” 


WIFE on SLAVE 9 lOU 

I believe you, Charles,” she answered. 

“ Then tell me why you have really come?” he said. 

“My mother lives in hourly dr^ad of the marquis; dim 
forebodings, which she crushed within her at the time of 
my poor father’s death, arise within her once more,” re- 
sponded Miriam. 

“ Of what nature?” asked Charles, who despite his anx- 
iety, could not help toying with her beautiful hair and 
stealing a kiss from her lovely cheek. 

“My mother never understood the real story of my 
father’s death. She always believed the account given by 
the present marquis to be suspicious. To speak plainly, 
Charles, she had a strong belief of foul play. Yes,” said 
Miriam, with bated breath; “she believes that he was 
murdered.” 

“Heaven! by his own brother?” cried Charles. 

“ There is another mystery. The present marquis is the 
elder. Why, then, while my father lived, was he called 
the marquis, and his brother treated as an inferior?” 

“Then he can have no legal right at all!” exclaimed 
Charles; “an elder brother, whose younger takes title 
and estates, must be barred by some utter disqualification. 
Have you no suspicion — no clew?” asked Charles. 

At this moment Norah returned with her father, and 
after the usual salutations, the conversation was resumed. 

“ The sudden elevation of the senor, or the decease of his 
younger brother, to the rank of marquis, was always a 
mystery to me,” said the gallant Irish gentleman ; “I could 
never understand it. During my worthy friend’s life, he 
ever treated him as a favored servant — nothing more.” 

“What can this mystery mean?” asked Charles. “ Have 
you no suspicion?” 

“None.” 

“Nor you, Miriam?” asked the colonel. 

“I think my mother knows; but sinco she came under 
the guardianship of my uncle, she is very reserved. She 
lives in constant dread of him: his assertion that she is a 
Louisiana slave, his production of the papers which assert 
her to be so, his threat to sell her away on the plantations, 
has so cowed her since, that she dares not speak — dares 
scarcely think.” 

“ She must be freed from this bondage,” said the colonel 
sternly; “and then the law shall remove her from the 
guardianship of the so-called marquis. I have infiuence, 
power, and will bring him to book.” 

“How can we get your mother and sister to join you?” 
said Charles. 

“ I cannot remain here. If rny absence were to be even 
^suspected, all would be lost. The marquis and his sou 


no 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


would be on their guard. ’Tis only fear of your influence 
in the church that now prevents a sacrilegious marriage. 
But they have deeply laid their plans, and when ripe, will 
carry out their nefarious schemes.” 

“But you will not place yourself in their power again?” 
cried Charles. 

“My absence is not known, not suspected,” she an- 
swered, shaking her head. “I cannot remain above an 
hour. I came away in the disguise of my own waiting- 
woman. ” 

“Colonel,” said Charles, piteously, “can nothing be 
done?” 

“Yes, and shall be done. Go back, Miriam, and do you 
and your mother be ready to-morrow night. When your 
father and I were young men together, he made known to 
me a secret, which probably you, Miriam, know nothing 
of,” he said. 

“What secret?” 

“Of an entrance to your hacienda, by which, in case of 
a siege, the scouts might return unknown to, and unmo- 
lested by the enemy,” he said. 

“ I have heard or it.” 

“Well, it goes into a summer house in your private gar- 
den,” he answered, “ Be on the lookout; have your jewels 
and valuables ready. You shall be rescued from his 
clutches.” 

“ Never can two poor girls be sufficiently grateful,” said 
Miriam. 

“ Keep your thanks, my dear,” said the colonel, with a 
smile; “ and now, as Miriam must go, let us to lunch.” 

Charles looked ruefully at his host. 

“I suppose,” laughed the Irishman, “it would oe nigh 
treason to take Miriam away, so let the meal be served 
here.” 

The orders were given, and then Denby and Di appeared 
on the scene, amazed and delighted to see Miriam in their 
midst. 

After lunch, escorted by Denby, Miriam took her de- 
parture, after a warm and cordial parting with Charles. 

But though Miriam was kindly in her manner to Norah, 
there was still a latent coolness, which not all her efforts 
could conceal. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LETTER. 

It was about an hour before sundown when Colonel 
Fitzpatrick, with Denby nnd a lerge party of armed peons 
and hunters, started on their wny for the hacienda. 


WIFE OR ^LAVEf 


111 


As the worthy Irishman wished his expedition to be se- 
cret and rapid, he took with him one of his best guides, 
Zachariah. 

This man was told where he was required to take them, 
and under what circumstances. 

He started at once with all the cunning of the sleuth 
hound. 

He knew the woods as well as any pirate of the prairies 
himself. 

Under the splendid trees, beneath the quivering shadows, 
beside the arcned brushwood, over the rippling stream, un- 
til he reached a rocky, craggy spot near the river. 

All alighted and fastened their horses to the adjacent 
trees. 

They were to be left under the charge of the peons, while 
the colonel, Denby, and Zachariah, with one more picked 
man, effected a secret entrance into the hacienda. 

The colonel led the way to where a number of pecan 
bushes skirted the rock. 

There was a kind of hollow, something in the shape of a 
cave, but no apparent aperture. 

But the colonel stepped to the very bottom of the hol- 
low, and then a narrow fissure became visible. 

He now produced a lantern and led the way. 

“Keep in line,” he said, as he entered the narrow and 
rocky way. 

It soon, however, enlarged into a cavern, and then once 
more became a path, descending, it was clear, from the 
level and the damp, to the bottom of the river. 

It was a long way, and frequently the ascent became as 
abrupt as the descent. 

“We are within the hacienda,” said the gallant colonel, 
“ and must exercise great caution.” 

“We are soldiers, and obey,” replied Denby. 

They soon entered a kind of grotto, and here was a door 
which had to be opened by means of a skeleton key. 

Looking around they saw they were in the grotto of the 
garden, set aside in all haciendas for the exclusive use of 
the ladies. 

All was still, silent, dark. 

^ “ Remain here,” said the colonel, wlio had shut the slide 
of his lantern; “I will go forth and reconnoiter. ” 

He did so, and returned at che end of a few minutes. 

“Allis silent and still — no lights in the rooms. I am 
afraid something has happened,” he whispered, in tones of 
disappointment. 

“ What is this?” cried Denby. “ A letter.” 

The colonel flashed his light and saw at once that it was 
a letter addressed to himself. 


113 


WIFI^ on ^LAVEf 


He snatched it eagerly and opened it. 

Dear colonel,” he read aloud, in English, ‘Hhe marquis 
suspects something, and we are to be removed at once — I 
believe I am right in thinking — to Meriones, the old Span- 
ish castle of which my father was so proud, but which he 
rarely visited because of its ruinous state. Our sole hope 
and trust is in you. Miriam.” 

“ Gone— spirited away!” exclaimed Denby. “What a 
demon this man is. Where is Meriones?” 

“'In old Mexico, within a short distance of the capital, 
but in the center of the gold mines, a wild and lawless dis- 
trict,” replied the colonel. “ What rascally and desperate 
game is he about to play?” 

“We must follow,” said Denby. 

“Mr. Denby,” replied the gallant Irishman. “I have en- 
tered on my task not lightly or without reflection, but with 
firm and solid determination to sift the mystery and crime 
to a solution. I shall go to Meriones.” 

“You believe it likely he will take them there,” said 
Denby. 

“ I have no doubt of it,” said Fitzpatrick. “ The place is 
wild, the people lawless, and he may there try by menace 
and tyranny to perpetrate his great crime.” 

“Let us away,” replied Denby; “we have no time to 
lose.” 

“Hush! I hear voices,” whispered the colonel, and all 
entered the secret path, leaving the door ajar. 

“ It is no use, Senor Jose,” said the pert voice ©f Naomi ; 
“ if you did not betray me you betrayed my mistress, and 
have got her and her sister and mother packed off to that 
horrid Meriones.” 

“Hush, my dear, no names,” said the major-domo, 
eagerly. “I really am soi-ry for what has happened. 
You know that I owe a duty to my master above every- 
thing.” 

“You should know, sir, that you owe a duty to your 
lady-love above everything.” 

Here followed a lover’s quarrel, with the details of which 
we have nothing to do, but which elicited the fact that 
early that morning the marquis and party had started for 
Meriones, while the next day the household was to follow, 
leaving the hacienda to the old servants and peons. 

This was enough for the colonel, who, with his party, 
hastened away. 

This is what had happened. 

Having been escorted to within a reasonable distance of 
the hacienda by Denby, Miriam resumed the reboso and 
jiikirt of the waiting-woman, and in this way reached the 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 113 

gates of the hacienda, which, as usual, at sundown, were 
closed. 

Tnere was a bell and a wicket for the visitors. 

Miriam rang, and giving her name as Naomi, was at once 
admitted. 

The porter looked at her. 

Against orders,” he said, with a sly glance at the con- 
cealed face. 

Jose gave me leave,” replied the supposed Naomi, in as 
pert a tone as she could assume. 

“ And here he comes,” said the porter, with a grin, “to 
claim his reward.” 

Miriam had leaped from her horse with that lightness 
and agility* for which she was rather celebrated. 

The horse had been taken by one of the men. 

“So, fair Naomi, cried the major-domo, advancing, “I 
must have a kiss from those pouting lips.” 

He attempted to snatch the much- coveted prize, and 
caught her around the waist. 

Miriam gave him rather a stinging box on the ear, which 
made him let go and stare. 

“A hard knock,” he said, surlily, “ and not your usual 
style. The Lady Miriam!” he cried, standing open-mouth- 
ed before her. 

The reboso had fallen during the struggle and revealed 
her lovely features, on which rested an expression of anger 
and disgust. 

‘ ‘ It’s only a bit of masquerade, ” said Miriam, eagerly ; 
“ don’t have Naomi punished.” 

“ I know my duty,” surlily replied the major-domo, furi- 
ous at the discomfiture of his attempt, and angry at the 
trick which had been played upon him. 

“Do as you please,” said Miriam, coldly, and went 
into the house, leaving the major-domo in a towering 
passion. 

He at once sought] the marquis and humbly told his 
story. 

“She has been to see that rascal colonel,” said the mar- 
quis, fiercely. 

“ What is to be done?” asked his son. 

“ Follow me,” cried the infuriated marquis. 

They went to the chamber occupied by the ladies. They 
fully expected the storm, but received their visitors polite- 
ly, offering them the chocolate of which they were par- 
taking. 

“ I must decline,” said the marquis, with his haughtiest 
and most insolent tones. “ Miriam, my visit is to you.” 

“ Why am I so honored?” she asked. 

^ Where have you been?” he askedj furiously. ^ 


114 


WIFE OR slave 9 


“ Am I compelled to answer such a brutal question? I 
am accustomed to be spoken to like a lady,” cried Miriam. 

“Then why condescend to sneak out in the apparel of 
a servant?” he cried. “I demand, I insist on a categori- 
cal reply. Where have you been, girl? Answer me tru- 
ly — have no equivocation — or I shall know how to take 
full vengeance on those who deceive me and defy my 
authority.” 

“ I am not in the habit of lying; I leave that for my bet- 
ters,” she answered. “I have been to demand the pro- 
tection and kind offices of Colonel Fitzpatrick.” 

“And his base, fortune-hunting adventurers,” he an- 
swered. “ But a stop must be put to all this folly.” 

“ Father, a word,” said the son, who was listening with a 
dowmcast and sullen expression of countenance. “ There’s 
only one way to put an end to this trickery and treach- 
ery.” 

“ And that is ?” 

The answer given by the count was not very clear and 
distinct, but Miriam, whose ears were preternaturally keen, 
just caught the word “ Meriones.” 

“It shall be done,” was the stern reply; “to-morrow 
these obstinate girls shall be removed out of reach of the 
machinations of traitors and base heretics. Prepare to 
start with the dawn.” 

And they left. 

Here was a terrible blow. 

All ready on the following night to flee on the wings of 
freedom, to rest and liberty, and above all, love. 

“ What is to be done?” gasped Maria; “ can we not fly 
^,0-night?” 

“Even if we were not watched,” said Miriam, “how 
could we find our way in the dark over those horrid 
plains?” 

“And what will they think?” asked the poor mother, 
with a resignation that was sublime in its devotion. “ If 
you girls could only get away, you once safe, I could die 
easy.” 

“I must write a letter and leave it in the arb:r. No one 
ever goes there in the day-time, and the servants will be 
busy,” said Miriam. 

She accordingly wrote the letter, placed it on a small 
shelf near the secret door, and slipping down deposited it 
there, with a fervent prayer that it might be found. 

At early dawn, guarded by a strong escort of peons and 
hunters, re-enforced by some of the rough-riders of the 
prairies, the ladies started on horseback for the distant and 
gloomy castle of Meriones. 


WIFE OH SLAVE f 


115 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE CASTLE OF MERIONES. 

The district in which the ancient Spanish castle, built at 
the time of the conquest of the country by Cortez, was 
situated, was about twelve miles off the main road to Mex- 
ico city, and was situated on a lofty hill overlooking a plain 
indented with gold mines. 

It resembled nothing so much as a deserted field of coal 
mines, the absence of fires forming the most marked con- 
trast. 

Scattered here and there were the houses of the inspec- 
tors, and then again in clusters the miserable villages of 
the washers. 

No populations are more wretched and impoverished 
than those which devote themselves to the extraction of 
precious stones and metals from the bowels of the earth. 

Despite of the letter of the law, they were slaves, many 
galley slaves, condemned to the mines for life, and devoted 
to an existence worse than that of a negro of Tomano, and 
that is saying a great deal. 

Guarded by soldiers with loaded muskets, the gangs 
worked both above and below the surface perfectly naked. 

They were subjected to the most severe and torturing 
discipline, to prevent their acquiring even the most in- 
finitesimal share of the precious things which they pro- 
vided their employers with. 

There were no villages, no inns, no place where travelers 
could be entertained. 

The policy of the government was to keep away all 
strangers. With the usual jealousy of the Spanish race 
and government, they wished to keep all their operations 
secret. 

It was therefore necessary even for the marquis, his 
party, and his retinue of servants, to prove their identity 
before they could pass on their way to the castle. 

But once the marquis was recognized, there was no dif- 
ficulty. 

It was different with the colonel and his cavalcade, and 
this he knew. 

As their presence in the gold district and their proximity 
to the castle were things they wished concealed, they were 
compelled to exercise great caution, and to march with all 
the circumspection of a band of robbers. 

Zachariah was one of the best hunters of the whole dis- 
trict, and he undertook to pilot the caravan to a spot near 
the castle of Meriones. 

They followed the main road, in the rear of the house- 


lie 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


hold which had gone to join the marquis at Meriones, 
openly at first, hut on reaching the spot where they in- 
tended turning off, they halted until evening. 

The party consisted of the colonel, Denby, Charles, and 
the two young ladies, with a powerful escort of armed 
servants and dependents of the colonel. 

Charles was better, but, at the wish of his friends, rode 
in a litter, attended on during the whole road by his faith- 
ful Wilson. 

Doubtless, however, he found the conversation rather 
monotonous, for he contrived, whenever there was a 
chance, to have Norah by his side. 

It was not difficult. 

They spoke eternally of Miriam. 

It was only natural they should do so. 

Denby kept by the side of the younger daughter, Di, and 
her father. 

It was a hot and unpleasant evening when they issued 
from the barranca where they had passed the day. 

It was one of the common roadside inns, and offered no 
other refreshment but that brought with you. 

Zacharfah entered, shortly after leaving the inn, upon a 
path of some extent, going, it appeared, into the very 
heart of the mountains. 

It was skirted by heavy timber. 

Some of the hills were clothed in dense vegetation, and it 
was among these they proposed to conceal tliemselves. 

No one could say how long it would be before they could 
enter the castle. 

It would be the utmost folly to attempt it by main force. 

They must exercise ingenuity. 

The castle grounds were surrounded by stout and lofty 
walls, and Zachariah knew that, no matter what the ruin- 
ous state of the castle itself, the walls of the gardens and 
grounds were intact. 

They could perhaps be scaled, but everything demanded 
profound secrecy and patience. 

They went along in almost Indian file for about an hour, 
always through the dense wood which skirted their course. 

They could hear the not very distant cry of the hyena 
and panther. 

But their party was too large to be attacked. 

“ We must go upward now,” said the guide, pointing to 
the hills ; ‘ ‘ and it will be as well to be careful. Some of the 
way is steep.” 

I Charles was carried by two mules, one ahead and the 
other behind. 

It was, going up hill, a jerky and rather unpleasant 
method of progression. 


WIPE OR SLAVED 


117 


Wilson stood on one side, and when she saw how rude 
was the way, Norah on the other. 

They prevented the hammock-like structure from sway- 
ing. 

“ When shall I cease to be a burden and a trouble?” he 
said, gently. 

“You are better already. The air of these mountains 
will soon brace you up,” she said, kindly. 

“I must say there is an elastic sensation already,” he an- 
swered. 

They reached a small mountain plateau, surmounted by 
other wood-clad trees. 

“Here is the end of our journey,” said the guide, who 
had dismounted and handed his horse to one of the peons. 

Then he disappeared within what appeared the solid rock. 

Presently, at the end of about ten minutes, he returned, 
and bade all follow, horses and all. 

An almost sublime spectacle presented itself to them. 

They were in the center chamber of a large cavern with 
diverging branches. On a kind of brazier burned a large 
fire of pine knots, while on all sides were torches stuck in 
the rock. 

“ Here we may lie concealed for years. We have water 
in abundance,” said the guide, raising his hand for silence, 
and directing their attention to the sound of falling waters, 
“ and game fills the forest.” 

“ ’Tisarare hiding-place; but the chambers you spoke 
of?” said the colonel. 

“This way,” responded Zachariah. 

He led the way, four men following with the litter, while 
the colonel, the girls, Denby and the servants brought up 
the rear. 

Zachariah and the hunters, who had been to the place 
before, secured pine knots, and sticking them in holes pro- 
vided for the purpose, soon pointed out two chambers, one 
for the females, and the other for the gentlemen of the 
party.’ 

They were provided with sweet grass, and they had 
plentj^ of coverlets to make beds. 

It was a wonderful and secure retreat. 

As soon as all was prepared for the night, at the request 
of Colonel Fitzpatrick, the guide led that gentleman and 
Denby to a spot where they could obtain a good view of the 
Castle of Meriones. 

It was a lofty pile, looming against a dark and gloomy 
sky, and looked more like a mediaeval castle on the banks of 
the Rhine, than one built by the Spaniards so late as the 
conquest by Cortez. 


118 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


It was not above half a mile distant, and was situated on 
the opposite side of the valley. 

“It is a romantie old ruin,” observed Denby; “and I 
wonder how it got there?” 

“ In the early days of the occupation of Mexico by the 
Spaniards,” replied the colonel, “every man’s hand was 
against them, and they had to build castles over the whole 
country. This was erected by one of the favorite followers 
of Cortez, then a Marquis Di Trejico. It has remained in 
the family ever since. ” 

“ And is now owned by that unhung rascal, the so-called 
marquis. I should like to smoke the scoundrel out,” cried 
Denby. 

“Perhaps it may come to that,” said the colonel, grave- 
ly; “ but we’ll try fair measures first. We must act with 
extreme caution, as the fellow is, I believe, very popular 
with the wild population who inhabit this district. ” 

Denby sighed. 

The idea of the two beautiful Mexican girls being in the 
power of such a ruffian was intolerable to him. 

What could their courage, resolution and devoted love 
do against the brute force of their tormentor? 

Nothing. 

Meanwhile the girls, with their unfortunate mother and 
attendants, had been hurried off with scant ceremony. 

The mother was closely imprisoned in a litter, beside 
which the girls rode on horseback. 

There was only one hope for them, and that was that 
their friends should find the letter. 

“The wicked appear to me,” said Maria in a low, hushed 
tone, “ to triumpn in this world. What hope is there for 
us?” 

“My hope is to be delivered or die,” replied Miriam, 
gravely; “ I have no choice. To wed with any one I do 
not love is impossible ; I would rather perish by my own 
hand.” 

“ Miriam !” cried Maria, “ surely your sorrows have made 
you mad, to think of self-destruction. No! anything but 
that. ” 

Miriam made no reply. 

It was a long and tiresome journey, and the girls shud- 
dered as they gazed up at the walls of what was to be their 
prison. 

Their gloomy and portentous aspect seemed to strike a 
chill to their very hearts. 

As the heavy gates closed behind them, they felt that 
awful sensation exemplified in the poet’s words: “Leave 
behind all hope ye who enter here.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


119 


They were conducted to a suite of apartments, which in 
their day may have been splendid enough, but which now, 
with their antique tapestries, furniture and neglect, were 
anything but inviting. 

Fires were, however, soon lighted by the domestics of the 
castle. 

The marchioness looked around with a wan and sickly 
smile, and her daughter with blanched cheeks and beating 
heart. 

A sigh escaped the bosom of the marchioness, and she laid 
her hand on Miriam’s shoulder. 

‘‘ Many happy days,” she said, “have I spent in these 
apartments, days now long since gone by. When your 
father first married me, he brought me here. We had 
three months of unalloyed joy.” 

“Indeed!” cried Miriam, interested despite her gloom 
and despondency; “ I suppose all was not so dark and mis- 
erable in those days?” 

“The darkness and misery is in our own souls,” replied 
the countess; “ twenty-one years ago I came here a young 
and happy wife, caring for no society but that of my hus- 
band. We might have stopped here years looking after 
the estate, but one of those revolutions, so common in our 
country, called your father to a high position, and we went 
to the capital where you were born.” 

“ Twenty years may make a difference,” sighed Maria; 
“but it seems a fearfully gloomy den to me.” 

“But,” said Miriam, who had cast herself on a couch, 

‘ ‘ those brave Americans will not leave us here. Let them 
once find us and all will be well.”' 

“But will they find you?” said the mother; “ we are, as 
it were, out of the world.” 

“ They will find us, if they spend a year in the search !” 
exclaimed Miriam. 

“You have great faith in your young friends,” smiled 
the poor mother. 

“ As you had in father,” said Miriam, simply ; “ they are 
as good as they are brave.” 

“ But it will not be easy for them to enter within these 
walls. It appears to me this old castle would stand a siege 
from an army,” observed Maria. 

“If we knew they were in the neighborhood,” replied 
the mother, in a low tone, “ I think I could find means to 
leave the castle. I do not exactly remember the details, 
but there is a private way, by which your father and my- 
self often left the castle to wander in ‘the hills. To-mor- 
row we will quietly look for it. It is somewhere through 
the vaults.” 

“Heavenj mother!” said Miriam^ warmly; “try and 


120 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


remember. This secret way may be the salvation of us. 
If they try any force or tyranny, better escape into the 
wilds or woods and die, than submit to their foul de- 
signs.” 

“It is strange to me,” observed Maria, “ and the more I 
think of it, the more I am puzzled how the marquis can 
dare to«urge a marriage, if he is indeed our uncle.” 

“He is not your uncle,” sighed the marchioness; “of 
that I am certain. But your father, who had a strange 
liking for him, never explained the mystery of his birth. 
That he had full and complete confidence in him is shown 
by his making him guardian over your persons and fort- 
unes.” 

“Strange infatuation, indeed,” said Miriam, “and one 
which I never could understand.” 

The entrance of a servant with the inevitable chocolate 
and cakes now checked the conversation, and it was not re- 
newed. 

They were very tired with the journey, and gladly re- 
tired to rest. 

Next day, however, Miriam, vrho had been thinking of 
the matter half the night, again spoke to her mother on 
the point of escape from the castle it the worst came to the 
worst. 

“I have a very dim recollection of the way,” replied the 
marchioness; “your father was always with me, and led 
the way. But when night comes and all is still, we will 
try.” 

This was generally agreed on, and then each sought in 
some way to pass the time. 

As the clock marked the ghostly hour of midnight, the 
three women arose. 

Each carried a taper, and Miriam was secretly careful to 
secure a pair of pistols, though such was her mother’s 
horror of firearms, that she did not say anything to her on 
the subject. 

Not a sound was heard within the whole confines of the 
castle as they started on their voyage of discovery. 

Miriam walked with her mother leaning on her arm. 

The marchioness was very much agitated. 

Kemembrances of the past seemed to crowd upon her as 
she moved along, memories not at all painful, for hers had 
been truly a happy married existence, never marred during 
her husband’s life by any jars or miseries. 

“This is the way we often passed at early dawn,” she 
said, “ to go forth like children and pick violets and other 
flowers in the woods. Ah, those were days of happiness 1” 

Her daughters made no reply. 

They were intently anxious for the discovery of the 


WIFE OR SLAVE? m 

secret, and cared not to interrupt the sweet memories of 
the past. 

“Yonder are the stairs which lead to the vaults; no 
change in them. They appear, from their darkness and 
gloom, from the cobwebs which hang about, to have never 
been visited since those days.” 

And surely they did look gloomy enough as, raising their 
tapers, they peered down the vauit-like aperture. 

The air was damp and moldy, and when they reached 
the vaults below, the wind very nearly blew out their 
lights. 

“Be careful,” said the marchioness, with a shudder, 
“ these vaults are winding and vast; and if you are left in 
darkness, we may never get out.” 

The vaults extended in all directions. 

“I am afraid,” said the marchioness, “I shall have some 
difficulty in finding my way.” 

She appeared, indeed, to have lost all memory of the 
road. 

“ I am quite bewildered,” she said, holding up her hand 
to her head; “your father used to take me along one of 
these alleys, but for the life of me I cannot tell which. 
Still, let us advance; if I see the gate leading upon the 
valley, I shall recognize it fast enough.” 

And, rousing herself to more vigorous action, she stepped 
forward, and glancing keenly around, took her way right 
across the vault. 

A that moment a cry — unearthly, as of terrible and 
mortal anguish — arose at no great distance. 

“Merciful Heaven I” shiieked the marchioness, and sank 
insensible on the cold stones. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, rise!” said Miriam, striving to lift 
her up ; but the weight was too dead and heavy. 

“Some one is in the vault,” whispered Maria, pointing 
to a distant light. 

Miriam seized her taper, and, with her own, hid them in 
a kind of niche that was handy to the spot, and then, 
holding her breath, waited. 

Not for long. 

They soon recognized those who were their companions 
in the vaults. 

It was the marquis and his son, who, with white, hag- 
gard and scared faces, came hurrying toward them. 

The marchioness gave something between a sigh and a 
groan; but, though it was very low and indistinct, their 
quick ears caught it. 

“ What was that?” asked the son; “ no eavesdroppers, I 
hope.” 

As good fortune would have it, there was at that moment 


WIFE OB SLAVE 9 


m 

a scampering of rats across the vault, who, as they ran 
away into their holes and hiding-places, uttered shrill 
shrieks and cries. 

“’Tis the vermin,” said the marquis, much relieved; 
“they have been scared by that unearthly cry.” 

“ Enough to make them,” replied his son, with a hoarse 
and mocking laugh ; “it nearly scared me.” 

“I had not thought your nerves so delicate,” sneered the 
marquis. 

With which words he led the way up the steps to the 
upper regions of the castle. 

“What can it mean?” Miriam whispered to Maria. 
“ Who gave that cry — and why are they in the vaults at 
night?” 

“Let us get out of them as soon as possible,” said Maria. 
“ I wish I had never seen them. Mamma, dear mamma, 
speak to us.” 

“Where am I?” she gasped; “what was that noise I 
heard — that fearful cry, as of a despairing soul?” she 
added. 

“Can you rise?” asked Maria, who was nearly dead with 
fear and terror. 

“ Help me up,” she said, feebly; “ I am very weak and 
cannot help myself.” 

They raised her up, and then tottering along, barely able 
to walk, even with their help, she slowly returned to the 
apartments assigned to them. 

As soon as she reached them, she cast herself on her 
couch, where she remained in a series of fainting fits for 
some hours. 

Her woras were incoherent and wild, but toward morn- 
ing she fell into a deep and refreshing sleep, from which 
she did not awaken for some hours. 

When she did so she was more composed, and having 
taken her breakfast, was able to speak with calmness of 
the events of the night before. 

They told her what they had seen and heard. She lis- 
tened with the most intense earnestness and gravity. 

“ ’Tis some awesome, gruesome mystery,” she said, with 
dilated eyeballs, “ and we must find it out. Who knows 
but it may give us a clew to some of his misdeeds?” 

“What do you suspect?” asked Miriam. 

“ Some accomplice whom he fears, some instrument of 
his dread crimes he lives in fear of, and has immured him 
in a living tomb. The man must know his secrets— have 
some terrible hold on him— and yet knowing your guard- 
ian as I do — how could he have spared the life of one he 
fears?” 

“We must release the captive at any cost or risk,” said 


WIFE OF BLAVEf 

Miriam. Who knows but the prisoner may be able to 
serve us?” 

“ Surely,” said Maria, “you will not venture into that 
awful vault again?” 

She was nervous and agitated, and scarcely knew what 
she did. 

“I will, if I go alone!” cried Miriam. “I believe Provi- 
dence has brought us here to unravel a great mystery, 
probably the secret of this man’s existence. And never 
shall I know rest until I have come to the bottom of his 
list of crimes. You can remain with mamma; to-night I 
will again visit the vaults.” 

“No,” said Maria, moodily. “You shall certainly not 
go alone. Much as I dread the place, great as was the hor- 
ror I experienced last night, I will go with you. Foolish, 
timorous girl as I am, I will not shrink from what I be- 
lieve is a duty.” 

“Brave girl!” cried her mother: “you are right; in 
this world never shrink from duty. Something tells me 
that you will be rewarded for your courage and resolu- 
tion.” 

Tlie garden connected with the castle was large, and 
being surrounded by a wall at least fourteen feet high, 
there was no hinderance to their walking within its con- 
fines. 

There were gardeners, too, about, who were occupied in 
seeing to the magnificent fruits and flowers which adorned 
this more than earthly paradise. 

The ladders, however, had been removed. There was no 
intention on the part of their guardians to allow them to 
communicate with any one outside the walls. 

But Maria and Miriam had another object in view that 
day. 

Vaults and dungeons must have some sort of loophole 
or window communicating with the upper world, and 
those they had visited the night before were clearly well 
ventilated. 

They strolled leisurely through the grounds for some 
time, looking at the fruits, flowers, and the work of the 
gardeners, until they believed they had exhausted sus- 
picion. 

They then moved away close to the castle walls, to that 
portion of it which they believed to be erected over the 
vaults and dungeons. 

They soon found the spot, and concluded, from the pres- 
ence of narrow loopholes, such as were once provided to 
shoot arrows through, that they had reached the desired 
spot. 

But what they principally looked for was the sound of 


m 


WIFE on SLAVE 9 


human voices — some repetition of the cry of the previous 
evening, which might give them some faint clew to the 
dungeon of the captive. 

Moving along with cautious steps and slow, they ap- 
proached a small thicket, surrounded on all sides by a thick 
hedge of prickly pear. 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Miriam, in a low tone, ‘^if 
we are near the solution of this mystery. Here is a gate 
leading into the interior of the thicket.” 

But the gate was locked. 

“Never mind,” cried Miriam, “ we can jump over.” 

She was about to suit the action to the word, when a 
short, ugly-looking negro, with tremendous arms, and a 
queer, scowling countenance, appeared. 

“ Not dat way, ladies,” he said. “ Dat pribate garden. 
Massa neber allow any dar but hisself.” 

And as he spoke he stood before the gate with a pre- 
tended deferential bow, but with a dogged aspect of de- 
termination to resist all endeavors to disobey him. 

“Is there anything very wonderful in this part of the 
garden?” asked Miriam, with difficulty getting up a laugh. 
“All the more reason that we ladies should want to see it.” 

“ Clean ag’in orders, I reckon, and can’t be done,” said 
the negro. 

“And pray who may you be?” Miriam continued. 

‘ ‘ Me Good Grab — faithful servant. Always obey orders, ” 
said the negro, in a surly tone. 

“Very well. Grab,” continued Miriam, wdlling to con- 
ciliate him; “you shall not come to grief through us, 1 
daresay there is nothing to see.” 

And with these words they went away, more than ever 
satisfied that there was a mystery existent, and that the 
bla(;k was in the secret. 

They left the garden, and retired once more to their 
apai’tments. 

What their guardians were doing, was a sealed mystery 
to them, though in the course of the day they found that 
they had left the castle. 

They heard this through Naomi, who came with the 
major-domo and the rest of the servants. 

They made up their minds to one thing above all, to 
trust no one with the secret of their suspicions. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE VISIT TO MERIONES. 

The second evening after the arrival of the party in the 
cavern, Charles Leicester felt himself quite well enough to 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


125 


join the others in any plan that might be decided on for 
the rescue of the girls. 

The first thing necessary was to let them know that they 
were on their track. • 

The friends determined to visit Meriones and reconnoiter. 

They took with them only the guide and Wilson. 

All were well armed, and dressed in plain Mexican peas- 
ant dress. 

If seen, they would be taken for hunters, but they fully 
intended not to be seen, as the presence of strangers in the 
neighborhood might excite suspicions and surmises that 
might lead to a discovery of their secret haunt. 

It was ten o’clock when they started, under the protec- 
tion of a dark canopy of clouds, which threatened them 
with one of those storms which are so common and violent 
in the mountains of Mexico. 

They had short tarpaulin or waterproof cloaks, which 
served to protect themselves and their guns from tlie rain, 
and in this way they started from the cavern, and made 
their way across the valley to the foot of the hill on which 
the castle was erected. 

But when they approached it, they found that on all 
sides it was equally unapproachable. 

Without regular scaling ladders, the garden itself could 
not be invaded. 

“ It’s a regular old middle-aged fortress,” observed Den- 
by, smoothing his mustache; ‘*a regular Blue-Beard 
castle, and I can see no way of getting in.” 

“ And yet we must penetrate within its walls — we must 
reach the inside and let the darling girls know we are at 
hand to save them from degradation and misery,” said 
Charles. 

“ For the present, senor,” observed the guide, ‘‘we had 
better seek' some shelter from the storm, which otherwise 
will drench us to the skin.” 

As the heavy falling drops proclaimed the fact with a 
force there was no resisting, all turned to take the advice 
of the guide, who speedily led them to the mouth of a 
small cave. 

They had scarcely entered, when the storm began in 
earnest. 

The rain fell in torrents, the thunder rolled in the distant 
hills, and the lightning fiashed with singular brightness. 

“We are lucky, indeed,” observed Denby; “these cav- 
erns are wonderfully convenient.” 

“This one, I suspect,” said the guide, with a knowing 
look, “will prove, perhaps, doubly convenient. I believe 
it to be the secret entrance to the castle, of which I have 
often heard,” 


126 


WIFE OR SLATE? 


“Heaven, what good fortune!” cried Charles Leicester, 
excitedly ; “let us explore it at once.” 

The guide, who had brought them to this place with 
premeditation, at once produced a bundle of small tapers. 

He had often made it his retreat when hunting, but hav- 
ing no motive for exploring it thoroughly, he had not pried 
into the secret. 

All he knew was from rumor. 

After going about fifteen yards, they found a steep 
ascent in the shape of some rude steps. 

There could be no doubt they were on the right track. 

Charles Leicester, though still pale and thin, was very 
active and excited beyond measure. 

Suddenly they reached a small platform, and there in 
the solid rock was a small iron doorway. 

They tried it, but it was immovable— solid as the large 
stones in which it was fastened. 

‘‘This is the private entrance,” cried Charles, searching 
vainly for a keyhole : “and there is some secret way of 
opening it. You are worth your weight in gold, Zachariah 
— but how to open it?” 

“ I see no clew at all,” said Denby, with a very blank 
look. “We want a blacksmith, or at all events a petard.” 

“The latter,” replied the guide, dryly, “would rather 
alarm the inhabitants. We must think of something 
else.” 

“ I can see nothing but the gunpowder; in the middle of 
the night, when all are asleep, it would not be very dan- 
gerous,” urged Charles. 

“ There is a blacksmith in the mountains,” replied Zach- 
ariah, “ who will soon open the door if he is well paid, and 
I know you Americans are not very shy of your money.” 

“ Hist !” said Charles ; “ back ! Somebody is trying it on 
the other side.” 

Somebody was trying a key in the lock. 

But, it was clear, without success. 

‘ ‘ Heavens !” cried Charles, in an ecstasy of delight, and 
yet of regret. “ ’Tis the girls. They have discovered the 
secret way, and are trying it.” 

He was so convinced of the truth of his surmise that he 
rushed to the door, shook it with all his strength, and 
called aloud : 

‘ ‘ Miriam ! ’Tis I — Charles !” 

There was a confused murmur on the other side, the 
character of which he could not make out in any way. 

Then there was a complete stillness, though in the dis- 
tance the storm raged furiously. 

“I shall go mad!” cried Charles, while Denby looked 
angry and puzzled. “ Can nothing be done?” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


127 


At this moment some pressure on the inside caused a 
small plate of iron to fall, and revealed a small keyhole. 

“ Who speaks?” asked a voice. 

“Oh, joy, the voice of Miriam! ’Tis I— Charles Leices- 
ter. Cannot you open it?” he asked, wildly. 

“ Impossible. We cannot find the right key; but come 
to-morrow. We will make a further search before we re- 
tire,” said Miriam, 

“How is Maria?” asked Denby, speaking through the 
keyhole. 

“She is here to speak for herself,” replied the young 
lady, archly. “Well enough in body, but sorely suffering 
in mind.” 

“And your tyrants?” asked Charles. 

“ Are absent to-day, but may return at any time. There 
is no time to be lost.” 

“One moment,” whispered Charles; “let us try to 
break open the door.” 

“Away— away!” said Miriam, frantically. “We are 
followed ! Do not be seen for your lives !” * 

“ But, Miriam he frantically urged. 

But no answer came, and not knowing w^hat to think, 
the four watchers of the night hurried away, and returned 
to the mouth of the cavern, where they remained until the 
storm was over, when they returned to the camp to prepare 
for the events of the next night. 

Charles and Denby were delighted even for small mer- 
cies. It was, besides, a deep source of satisfaction to 
know that those they loved were in the castle, even if 
cooped up and confined as prisoners. 

The marquis and his son, believing themselves perfectly 
secure, would not hurry on matters. They would seek by 
isolation and confinement to break the spirits of their 
victims. 

Little did any of them suspect the new phase upon which 
the conspirators had entered. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE LONE CONVENT. 

Despite the wealth and power of the marquis and his 
son — despite their recklessness Avith regard to public opin- 
ion — there was one power in the RepuMic of Mexico which 
Avas too much for them. 

This was the church. 

Dispensations can be obtained for almost anything, and 
especially for marriage, when not too near the prohibited 
degree. 

The marquis, being only a half-brother of the late mar- 


128 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


quis, was not so near as to render a marriage impossible ; 
but the relationship was sufficiently near to render a union 
with the consent of the church very difficult. 

The priest in their pay would have had no regard to any 
scruples of this kind, the more that both the marquis and 
his son intended to solemnly deny, in case of marriage, the 
relationship of the girls. 

They were the daughters of a slave mother, possibly 
adopted by a fond father. 

But the publicity given to their designs, 'the steps taken 
by the young Americans, their appeal to the archbishop, * 
were matters for serious consideration. 

Despite the existence of some utterly unprincipled priests, 
and of others half-savage and ignorant, there were in 
Mexico sufficiently high-minded and virtuous ecclesiastics 
to repress disorders and punish irregularities. 

The girls were firm in their determination to refuse 
consent to any marriage, under whatever form, and the 
dread of exposure acted upon the minds of these two 
men with an influence and power that no other sentiment 
could. 

Besides, the calm determination of the girls, the hatred 
and contempt, of which they made no secret, had aroused 
in the bosoms of these two ferocious men a sense of fury 
and disappointment which was rapidly eliminating any 
such sentiment as they profaned by the name of love. 

Whatever sentiment they might at one time have expe- 
rienced was now turned to hate. 

That morning, at an early meal, the father and son spoke 
out their mutual sentiments, the younger and more ener- 
getic man, as usual, leading the way. 

“ I tell you what it is,” he cried, “ I think you and I are 
making two fools of ourselves.” 

“ Speak for yourself, young man,” observed the marquis, 
with a frown. 

“ Well, my respected parent, we must come to some un- 
derstanding. I shall soon be moped to death in this place, 
which I never expected to have visited again. Here we 
are shut up in a foul and noisome den, inhabited by crows 
and bats, and other noxious animals, and all because we 
hesitate to strike a blow,” he added. 

“I have done enough,” said the marquis, with some- 
thing like a groan. “ Already my conscience gives me no 
rest ; my sleep is disturbed by weird dreams — and some- 
times,” he added, with a deep sigh, sometimes ” 

‘‘Well, sir?” cried the count. 

“ I repent — yes, on my soul I do — and wish the cruel evil 
I have perpetrated undone^” he said, with ^tartlin^ eiq- 
phasis, 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


129 


«« Why not confess, and if you escape the garrote, you 
may end your days in a yellow dress, sweeping the streets 
of Mexico !” sneered his son. 

“Spare your sarcasm,” continued the marquis, calmly. 
“ I know the penalty of repentance and confession, .and have 
no desire to pay it. Still this terror and suspense must 
end. I am tired of Mexico. In the old world — in France 
especially — we might forget. In the whirl of Paris, in the 
midst 01 its luxurious enjoyments, we might even be 
happy.” 

“ But the girls and their vast fortunes? Do you mean to 
abandon them to those young reptile heretics?” 

“ No — by Heaven, no! Listen to me, and you will hear 
my final decision,” said the gloomy marquis. 

“ It would be a satisfaction to know it was final,” ob- 
served the count, still sneeringly. 

“After the inteference of the archbishop, backing these 
insolent intruders, to marry these girls is simply impossi- 
ble. The ties of consanguinity which might liave been 
ignored, had the marriage taken place unopposed, will 
now bar us forever. We should be excommunicated, and 
Mother Church would heavily help herself to our posses- 
sions,” he added. 

“ What then?” 

“The girls must take the veil,” was the somber reply, 
“bequeathing us all they possess, save only the dowry, 
which must be paid to the convent which shelters them.” 

“ But they will resist,” cried the count. “ Besides, what 
convent would accept them against their wish? All that 
was very well years ago ; but in these days of liberalism 
and enlightenment,” he added, with a bitter laugh, “ such 
things are at an end.” 

“You forget the Black Nuns of Serano,” said the mar- 
quis, coldly. 

Cruel and wicked as was the count, he shuddered, and 
hesitated some moments ere he answered his father. 

“It is a convent for criminals,” he cried at last — “ for 
impostors !” 

“ And are they not impostors? — the daughters of a slave 
mother,” responded the elder man, “who had combined 
with my brother to cheat me of my inheritance, to deprive 
me of rank, name, and fortune? Had my brother had a 
legal son, where should we have been?” 

“Where, indeed?” said the count, looking at him from 
under his eyelashes, with a sardonic smile. 

‘ ‘ Rely upon it, the Mother Abbess of Serano will soon 
make them sign a full confession, the more that on their 
consent depends their mother’s fate. This night the Senor 


130 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 


Brown, from Louisiana, will arrive Avith all the papers to 
prove she is his runaway slave.” 

‘‘ But the authorities?” said the count. 

“ The man will come in secret. If we come to terms, he 
will take away his property. ’Tis for him to carry her off. 
Depend upon it a shrewd and clever Yankee Avill know 
how to act. After breakfast I ride to Serano.” 

“I have never seen the place,” retorted the son, “and 
will ride with you.” 

Never seen the place. Neither he nor any one else, as a 
rule ever had seen the place. 

The convent of Serano was equal to what we should call 
a reformatory. It was a prison governed by the rigid 
order of Black Nuns, to Avhich were sent criminals of the 
upper classes; first-class female misdemeanants, faithless 
wives, obstinate daughters, and ladies guilty of crimes 
from the consequences of which their relath^es and friends 
wished to save them. 

These Avere the inA^oluntary residents among AAdiom the 
marquis planned to place Miriam and Maria. 

The convent was a Ioav building, surrounded by A^astly 
high walls, with a ditch of some extent and depth sur- 
rounding it on all sides. 

But the most remarkable feature of the convent was a 
chapel planted on a rock, and which AA^as only reached by 
means of steps cut in the stone. 

It was surmounted by a tall crucifix. 

Again, this convent Avas guarded by soldiery. 

Outside the drawbridge gate Avas a guard-house, and one 
sentry was always on duty, day and night. 

“ Truly,” said the count, as Avith his father he rode up 
to this fearful abode, “ this reminds me somewhat of my 
scJiool reading — something about Dante and his ‘ Inferno.’ ” 

“ Well,” said the father, champing his gray mustache, 
“ it may be said, abandon all hope ye who enter here. As 
for the young ladies, I have no pity or compassion for 
them. They have brought it all on themselves. ” 

At this moment they were rudely challenged by the sen- 
tinel on duty, who bade them to halt. 

“ Friends to see the lady abbess,” replied the marquis, in 
a haughty tone. 

“ Advance one friend to see the lady abbess,” was the 
formal rejoinder of the soldier. 

The marquis, bidding his escort await his signal, rode 
forward, and taking a letter from his breast, handed it to 
the soldier. 

That person called out the corporal of the guard, gave 
him the missive, and then bade the senor return to his 
party and await further orders. 


WIFE on SLAVE 9 


131 


‘‘ Mighty particular/’ said the count. 

My friend,” replied his father, with a sarcastic smile, 
“that convent contains, it is true, some dangerous crim- 
inals, but it contains worse, the secrets of many a noble 
family. Daughters without number are here sacrificed to 
the ambition of the eldest son, others sacrificed because 
they would not,” he added, with a sardonic laugh, “give 
up the man of their heart.” 

“A pretty purgatory,” grinned the count; “I should 
fancy there were some charmers worth rescuing.” 

“Many,” was the answer ; “ but here comes the response 
to our missive.” 

The guard summoned them to advance, and as they did 
so, the drawbridgefell, and the gates of the convent opened 
wide. 

“ Enter,” said the sentry, laconically, and went on with 
his monotonous and weary walk. 

As soon as the whole party were inside, the gates were 
closed, and a monk in black, with a hood over his face, 
revealing only two fiery eyes, advanced. 

“The marquis and his son will follow me,” he said, in a 
hollow tone, “the rest will remain here.” 

The two gentlemen at once obeyed, and alighting, pro- 
ceeded to follow the monk through several dark and 
gloomy passages, opening as he did so no less than five 
heavy iron doors. 

At last he pointed to one which stood open of itself. 

“Enter there,” he said, in a deep, hollow voice. 

They obeyed, and found themselves in a room all sur- 
rounded by black. Its furniture was one chair, two stools, 
a table over which hung a crucifix, and on which were 
three skulls, in front of which was a perfect panoply of 
bones. 

“ I understand,” said a woman, suddenlj^ appearing from 
behind a curtain, “that you have business with me, 
senors?” 

She was a little, active woman, with deep-set eyes, cruel, 
thin lips, and a generally ferret expression of countenance. 

“We have, most excellent lady,” responded the mar- 
quis, in his most dulcet tones. ' 

“Be seated,” said the superioress, taking the one cozy 
armchair, and pointing to the stools, “and then be brief.” 

“I will not take up more of your valuable time,” said 
the marquis, with slightly sarcastic emphasis, “ than I can 
help. I want to place two girls under your protection.” 

“ Temporarily?” she coldly asked. 

“ For life,” was the answer. 

“One moment,” she cried, and taking up a bell, rang it 
thidce. 


m 


WIFE OF BLAVEP 


An attendant entered with a large book like a ledger, 
which she placed before the lady superior, and then re- 
tired. 

The woman opened the book, and dipping a pen in an 
inkstand, prepared to write. 

“Names and ages?” said the woman, with the utmost 
coolness. 

“Nineteen and twenty — Miriam and Maria,” was the 
really startled answer. 

The marquis was astounded at the matter-of-fact way in 
whicli the other did business. 

“Their crimes?” she went on. 

“Being illegitimate, and children of a slave, setting 
themselves up as heirs to a large property,” he replied. 

“ Refractory and disobedient,” she said, as if reading to 
herself. “ Anything else?” 

“ They boast of being heretics,” was the whispered re- 
sponse, “ and defy and insult the church.” 

“Ah!” she cried, “ we have special cells for those who 
deny their religion.” 

“ I am glad to hear it,” said the marquis. “ They will 
learn to know the value of humility and obedience.” 

“ You are well aware that you have said for life. Reflect 
well — once they enter here, even you yourself cannot re- 
lease them.” 

The tones of the marquis were deep and husky, as he 
said: 

“ I am well aware that once they enter this place, they 
remain here till death.” 

“You know that these female boarders of mine are ex- 
pensive?” she continued. 

“ Name your price,” he exclaimed. 

“One thousand ounces down,” was the cold and frigid 
response; “one hundred a year, paid with strict regular- 
ity.” 

The marquis again smiled sardonically. 

But he knew that such luxuries as he was about to in- 
dulge in were expensive, and he had come prepared. 

He laid the money demanded by the superioress on the 
table. 

“When will you bring them?” said the woman, as she 
carefully placed the money in a drawer. 

“ I should wish them fetched — swiftly at night, and car- 
ried off without exciting the remotest suspicion,” said the 
marquis. 

“Command. It is my duty to obey.” 

And the marquis gave his minute instructions, which 
the other promised to obey. 

She arose. 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


138 


“ Caballeros,” she said in a more suave tone than she had 
as yet assumed, ‘ ‘ you have ridden far. While I give orders 
and instructions, will you refresh yourselves?” 

The gentlemen were nothing loth, and when the monk 
entered, readily followed him to the refectory, where a 
dainty lunch was laid out, quite at variance with what 
might have been expected in that spot. 

The monk pointed to the refection and to the chairs, and 
was about to retire. 

“We are accustomed to have our host eat with us,” said 
the marquis, with polite irony. 

The monk cast off his hood, and showing a grinning 
face, that of a powerful man of forty, at once obeyed the 
command. 

“ I am completely at your orders,” he said; and with a 
dexterity born of long practice, he began to carve and 
bountifully serve the hungry travelers. 

He helped himself as freely as he did the others, and 
poured out foaming goblets. 

Presently the marquis arose, and taking out a small but 
well-filled purse, dropped it into the at once ready hand of 
the priest. 

“ For the poor,” he whispered. 

With a chuckle, the monk made the valuable parcel dis- 
appear in the folds of his robe, and then proceeded to guide 
them to the courtyard, where their escort awaited them. 

In ten minutes more they were on the open plain, which 
spread for niiles around the convent, without tree or bush. 

“Ouf !” said the son, who had scarcely spoken once dur- 
ing the whole interview. “I feel like a prisoner escaped 
from a dungeon. It is an awful place.” 

“I think we shall find our doves a little more manage- 
able after a short residence in that place of retirement,” 
observed the marquis. 

“ That residence?” said the young man, with a pitying 
shudder. “I should think few could remain there long. 
Besides, they are never to leaVe.” 

“But that they will not know,” resumed his father. 
“ They will be promised freedom, on condition tha^t they 
give a formal renunciation of all claims to the estate.” 

“I see,” mused the count, and lighting up a cigarette, 
he dashed away upon the plain. 

It was three in the afternoon when they regained the 
gloomy castle, which the girls believed to be the most ter- 
rible prison in the world. 


134 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE NIGHT ADVENTURE. 

It was with the utmost impatience that Charles Leicester 
and Denby awaited the coming of the night, wdien they 
would make a determined attempt to enter the castle. 

After long consultations, they had contrived a kind of 
infernal machine, or petard, wdiich would, by blowing open 
the ward of the lock, enable them to force an entrance 
through the iron door. . 

They were, however, also prepared with some heavy 
cro\vbars and other instruments, which might enable them 
to make a violent and forcible entry. 

In accordance with previous arrangements, and with the 
advice of the guide, the whole party kept within the cavern 
during the day. 

It had, however, another exit, on the opposite side, of the 
castle of Meriones, which opened into a wood, and this 
spot was used as a recreation ground. 

It happened that during the hour usually devoted to the 
siesta, the two young men, never foi’getful of their gal- 
lantry and devotion to the fair sex, proposed to Norah and 
Di a stroll in the wood. 

No inhabitants had been noticed on that side, and there- 
fore there appeared no danger. 

It cannot be said that the colonels daughters looked 
upon their expedition in any way as a hardship. 

It was regarded more in the light of a romantic advenL 
ure than anything else. 

They had strolled under the lofty trees, beneath which 
grew the rich creeping vegetation of the semi-tropics, and 
their talk was of the coming adventure of the night. 

‘‘ If I pull the castle down stone by stone,” said Charles, 
warmly, ‘ ‘ I will effect an entrance. Every instant the dear 
girls remain in the hands of those ruffians is madness and 
torture.” 

“ I never was brought upas a bricklayer,” remarked Den- 
by, in his usual quaint manner, “but I could manage a 
little carpentering. I should say a ladder would be a proper 
thing to try.” 

“Escalade instead of battery,” said Norah, who always 
assumed a tone of light-hearted meniment. 

“ Your idea,” responded Charles, gravely, “is an excel- 
lent one ; and in case we do not enter by the vaults, it shall 
be tried. Any way, this night I shall enter the castle of 
Meriones.” 

From habit with the girls, they had been speaking in 
Spanish, 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 195 

“ Who talks of the castle of Meriones, when the convent 
of Serano is close at hand?” said a hollow voice. 

All started^ and saw before them a young and handsome 
cavalier, his face, however, gaunt and pale, with every sign 
of physical and mental suffering. 

His clothes, once handsome and well-made, were seedy 
and in tatters. 

But his sword, spurs, and even the elegant gun he car- 
ried, indicated a caballero of no mean rank. 

He was alone. 

“Sir!” cried Charles, with a peculiar glance at Denby, 
“I presume you have been listening to our conversation?” 

The tattered wanderer drew himself up to his full height, 
looked haughty and proud, despite his woe-begone attire. 

“The Count Di Speranza is no eaves-dropper, ” he said; 
“ but I heard the words ‘ castle of Meriones ’ spoken bitter- 
ly, and involuntarily alluded to my own sorrows.” 

“ Heaven 1” cried Norah, who knew the brilliant young 
noble alluded to well; “ you are not Carlo?” 

“ Who calls me by my name?” he continued, half wildly. 

“The Colonel Fitzpatrick is here, and surely you have 
not forgotten Clara’s schoolfellows, Norah and Di?” she 
answered. 

“Clara!” he half shrieked; “ do you know what has be- 
come of her? No ! I see it by your scared looks. Be seated 
and I will explain.” 

In silent astonishment the whole party obeyed, and in a 
few words the hapless youth and lover told his tale. 

He loved. 

His rank and high position, descendant of a Spanish 
grandee, he had the right to aspire to the daughter of any 
noble in Mexico. 

His choice fell upon Clara, a member of the great and 
princely family of Medina Sidonia. 

But the great trunk was in Spain, and only an offshoot 
existed in Mexico. 

This offshoot consisted of Count Luis Di Sidonia, his only 
son and daughter. 

They were rich, but not rich enough to dower son and 
daughter equally. 

Now, it was the custom of the house, if the money at 
hand failed to provide the daughter with sufficient to 
marry her in splendor, that the daughter should go to a 
convent. 

The Count Luis had only enough property and cash to 
provide for his son. 

His daughter, therefore, must become a mm in order 
that her brother might swell and strut on the brief stage 


136 WIFE OR SLAVE f 

of human existence in all the peacock pride of rank and 
wealth. 

But the Count Di Speranza had seen and admired Clara, 
and by means of those duennas^ who are supposed to guard 
the wives and maidens of Spanish origin from lovers and 
sweethearts, had contrived many interviews. 

The young lovers pledged themselves to one another by 
every sacred vow beneath the moon. 

Then the Count Carlo made a formal demand for the 
damsel’s hand in marriage. 

The Count Luis Di Sidonia was polite, even proud, but 
family arrangements precluded her accepting the honor. 

His daughter had solemnly devoted herself to the church. 

The count hotly replied that this must be an error, as 
he demanded her hand with her own consent, and was 
quite rich enough to accept so rare a gift without any 
dowry. 

“ The daughters of Sidonia,” said the cold, cruel, haughty 
father, “ never leave their home as dowerless wives. She 
is the bride of the church.” 

The Count Di Speranza withdrew, and that same night 
contrived to see Clara. 

They at once agreed to escape to Europe, where their 
marriage could be completed without any of those diffi- 
culties which render matrimony so difficult in Mexico. 

But the terrified duenna betrayed them, and when the 
father found the daughter defiant of his authority, and 
warmly protesting her design to tell the truth at the foot 
of the altar, his mind was made up. 

Clara was never more seen, but was hurried away to the 
convent of the Black Nuns of Serano, there to be brought 
to that state of mind whitdi would induce her gladly to ac- 
cept the offer of seclusion in one of the rich and aristo- 
cratic convents of Mexico city, the members of which 
move, under certain very easy restrictions, in society. 

They are, in fact, often, for beauty and accomplish- 
ments — especially singing and music— its greatest orna- 
ments. 

All listened to him with the greatest interest. 

“ And the convent?” asked Charles Leicester, when the 
young man had told his story; “can such a place be in 
existence?” 

“It is not far from here,” said the young man; “a short 
ride from Meriones. I saw the marquis and his son visit 
the place this morning. They have just returned.” 

“ From the Black Convent,” cried Charles, arising from 
his grassy seat, trembling with emotion. 

“ Yes, the two, with a heavy escort, went this morning 
to the convent. I follow every party who visits there. 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


137 


Any day the cruel Sidonia may wish to release her child.” 

Charles and Denby exchanged looks. 

The expression of terror on their faces was unmistakable. 

An awful dread had fallen upon their souls. 

‘‘ Come with us. We must at once consult the colonel,” 
cried Charles, explaining his fears to his new friend. 

“It’s awful — it’s horrid!” said Denby, who, despite his 
assumed levity, really shook with alarm. 

And all hurried into the recesses of the cavern, where 
they found the colonel just arousing himself from his 
siesta. 

His astonishment at seeing the young count in such a 
state of mind and deshabille^ was intense, almost ludicrous. 

But he heard his story, 

‘‘My friends,” he said, when all had been explained, 
speaking with due gravity, “we are in a terrible plight. If 
the marquis is playing this desperate game, I really know 
not how we can act. Once in the Black Convent of Serano, 
they are for ever beyond our reach.” 

“Not if I burn the fearful den about their confounded 
ears I” cried Charles. 

“That’s just it,” said Denby. 

“My friends,” interrupted the colonel, solemnly, “the 
Black Convent of Serano is a kind of state prison for 
women, and those who are confined there are chiefiy, I 
believe, persons who deserve their fate. How far the power 
of the heads of this holy place has been abused, I know 
not.” 

“Clara Sidonia is there against her will,” cried the young 
lover. 

“You say so, and I believe you; but I do not see the 
remedy. What we want is some power stronger than that 
of the marquis and his son to demand the release of Miriam 
and Maria,” he added, “if they are sent to the convent.” 

“ Their mother,” gasped Charles. 

“ They say she is a Louisianian slave,” replied the gener- 
ous Irishman, with a sigh. “But there, let us assure our- 
selves of the fact, and my name isn’t Fitspatrick if some- 
thing is not to be done to release the unfortunate girls from 
this fearful Hades.” 

“Let us start at once,” cried Charles and Denby, in one 
voice. 

“We must not be rash. To start before nightfall would 
be madness, ” continued the older man ; “so seek repose, 
and when the hour comes I shall be ready.” 

The delay was distasteful to the young men, but they 
saw the wisdom of it and consented to wait till night- 
fall. 

The young men retreated to their own pxivate chamber. 


188 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


and invited the young count, their companion in mis- 
fortune, to smoke, while he told them all he knew of the 
horrible convent. 

They were lovers all, and their conversation may readily 
be imagined. 

Before the hour of setting off, they were bosom friends. 

About seven the guard was ready, and a really large 
armed party was detailed for the expedition to the castle. 

All were heavily armed, as none knew what difficulties - 
they would have to encounter. 

Zachariah walked first ; all the rest in single file behind. 

In this way they reached the foot of the hill on which 
the castle was situated. 

As soon as they entered the cavern below the rock, a 
torch was lighted. 

They at once made their way toward the heavy iron door 
with all their appurtenances. 

The guide lost no time, but at once applying the petard 
sent all to conceal themselves in an inner cave. 

He then fired a fusee of some length, and fleeing himself, 
rejoined his companions. 

They had not long to wait for the event. 

In a few minutes a sharp, but rather dull explosion was 
heard, a stifling smell of gunpowder made itself evident, 
and then all rushing out found that the petard had snap- 
ped the lock, and they were at once able to force open the 
door. 


CHAPTER XXYIII. 

IN THE DARK VAULTS. 

Both Charles Leicester and Arthur Denby in that su- 
preme moment were almost powerless through excitement. 

They were provided with torches and with two lan- 
terns, and lighting the latter began to look around. 

They were in tlie vast vaults of the castle — vaults cut 
in the solid rock, with large pillars at every seven or 
eight feet to support the mighty superstructure over their 
heads. 

All listened attentively. 

Not a sound was heard, and yet the time had come when 
the girls were to meet them. 

Midnight struck from the chapel clock in the great 
courtyard of the castle. 

“They said midnight,” cried Charles Leicester, "with a 
dark frown on his handsome face. “ I hope nothing has 
happened to prevent them keeping their appointment.” 

“ I shall not draw back, even if we have to face the 
marquis. ” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? :3S 

They crossed the vaults in the direction of the steps 
which led to the upper part of the house. 

But still no sound. 

Not a trace of those they came to seek. 

“ What can it mean?” asked Charles, who was, on the 
present occasion, singularly despondent and alarmed. 

“They have been watched and suspected,” said Denby. 

‘ Eemember,” urged the young Spanish nobleman, 
“ what I told you of the Black Nuns of Serano.” 

“ But the marquis would not dare to proceed to such foul 
extremities,” said Charles. 

“ If you knew the man as well as I do,” responded Don 
Speranza, “you would believe anything of him. Strange 
stories are told about him. His. life has been a desperate 
one. Some believe him to be the same with El Polido, the 
noted robber, who assailed a government escort, and 
robbed them of a million of gold.” 

“And he holds his head up high in society!” cried 
Charles. 

“ Very many strange things happen in Mexico when a 
man’s flush of money. Doubloons and dollars cover a 
multitude of sins.” 

At this moment a fearful groan was heard from some 
corner of the vaults. 

“ What can it be?” asked Charles. 

“ The ghost of some former tenaiit of the vaults,” urged 
Zachariah, who had all the usual superstitious belief of his 
countrymen. 

“Help — mercy — I die!” was plainly heard. 

“No ghost, by Heaven! but some wretched prisoner,” 
said Charles. “By Heaven! who knows but we maybe 
the means of unraveling some terrible mystery? Thank 
Heaven we came.” 

Guided by the mysterious sounds and groans, the whole 
party hurried across the vault, and found themselves in 
front of a heavy door, set in solid rock. 

The voice inside was low and indistinct; but the mur- 
murs were as if of one in pain — in, perhaps, mortal agony. 

“’We must break open this door!” exclaimed Charles, 
resolutely. “ Zachariah, use your tools.” 

The guide at once produced them from under his goat- 
skin cloak. 

“Be patient,” said Charley, in a low, but clear and dis- 
tinct voice; “ friends are near. ” . 

‘ ‘ Friends ! Ha — ha— ha !” was the hollow reply. ‘ ^ Dogs ! 
bloodhounds ! assassins !” 

“The poor fellow’s mad, I fear,” observed Charles to his 
bosom friend ; “ and no wonder, if he has been long im- 
mured in these dungeons.” 


140 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


The lock was strong and obstinate, and for some time re 
sisted the efforts of the guide. 

At lastj however, using the powerful leverage of his 
crowbar, he succeeded in getting a good purchase, and in 
wrenching it open. 

A foul emanation, as of hot, steaming air, came out of 
the dungeon. 

Charles Leicester and Denby entered, the others holding 
back. 

A direful, doleful spectacle presented itself. 

The ground of the cell — a dungeon a few feet square— 
was covered by a fetid pile of straw, which, from damp 
and consequent heat, was steaming. 

On the ground, chained to the wall, was what appeared 
a human being — was, in fact, a man — but so gaunt, hag- 
gard, and with such lack -luster eyes as to resemble rather 
a wild beast than a creature in God’s image. 

“ Who and what can it be?” whispered Charles. 

‘‘No matter; let us take him away from this vile den,” 
responded Denby. 

The guides and others were now summoned, the chain 
was rent in twain, and four men, lifting the poor creature, 
who did nothing but sigh and groan, carried him out of the 
cell. 

Zachariah at once examined his wallet, and offered the 
poor sufferer bread and pulque. 

Like a famished dog, he devoured the food and made 
signs for more. 

Zachariah, who was a man of experience, gave him a 
little more, slowly and in small quantities, and then allow- 
ed him to drink his fill. 

He seemed revived, but made no attempt to speak, 
looking around with a vacant stare, indicative of hopeless 
idiocy. 

“No matter who he is, we must release him. A foul 
and wicked crime has been perpetrated,” cried Charles; 
“ and by Heaven! if the marquis be guilty, we shall have 
him in our hands. Let him be taken out, and some of you 
make a hand-litter to carry the poor fellow. I shall ascend 
the stairs, and see if we can discover anything.” 

The young Spanish nobleman volunteered to remain in 
command of the party, while Charles and Denby set out 
upon a voyage of discovery. 

Both were well armed, with short cut-and-thrust swords 
and revolvers, which they concealed under the poncho, 
which was their outer costume. 

The top of the stairs once reached, they found them- 
selves in a long passage, illuminated feebly by two oil 
lamps. 


WIFE on ^LAVEf 


141 


Everybody appeared to have retired to rest. 

Not a sound was heard. 

The silence was, in fact, overwhelming and oppressive, 

‘‘The whole household must be in bed,’’ whispered 
Charles; “ but the girls? They positively promised to be in 
the vaults to-night.” 

“ They have been watched, suspected,” urged the young 
man. 

“If the young count’s surmise be correct,” continued 
Charles. 

“My dear friend, if it be so, rely upon it we will get 
them out. They are willfully and criminally detained 
against their will, and Colonel Fitzpatrick will be able to 
obtain their release.” 

“It is very difficult to get out of such a place,” said 
Charles. 

“There is a light above, moving,” whispered Denby. 

“ Ah! who can it be? Let’s draw back in the shaddow,” 
exclaimed Charles. 

They stood on r/ne side in deep shadow and waited. 

It was Naomi, the favorite attendant on Miriam and 
Maria. 

She was descending the stairs rapidly, a wild look in 
her eyes. 

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Charles seized 
her. 

The girl started, and a frightened cry arose to her lips. 

“ Naomi, don’t be frightened,” he said ; “ we are friends 
— you know us.” 

“ Heavens! what do you here?” she gasped. “ Too late 
— too late — she is dying?” 

“ Who is dying?” said both, wildly. 

“ The marchioness. I am going in search of stimulants. 
I will not be five minutes. You can see then for yourself.” 

» And she flitted past without another word, and disap- 
peared quickly down the obscure passage. 

In less than two minutes she returned with a bottle of 
brandy and glass on a tray. 

“ Follow me,” she said; “there is nothing to fear, the 
marquis is absent from the castle.” 

With wildljr beating hearts, the two young lovers 
obeyed, mad with doubt, anxiety and fear. 

On entering the room occupied by the marchioness, they 
found that lady lying on a couch, insensible to all ap- 
pearance, but groaning in a low and feeble tone of voice. 

Naomi hurriedly opened the brandy bottle, moistened 
the patient’s lips, and then poured a ^mall, quantity down 
her throat. 


142 WIFE OF SLAVE P 

She opened her eyes and looked around with a wild and 
startled glance. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my children I Monsters, give me back my children, 
and do with me what you will !” she oried. 

“What has happened? Do not keep us in suspense,” 
cried the lovers. 

But the marchioness was incapable as yet o£ explaining, 
and Naomi was nearly as incoherent. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE BLACK NUNS. 

Miriam and Maria remained nearly the whole day with 
their mother, except when she urged them to take a walk 
in the garden to recruit their faded cheeks. 

It was a terrible day — a day of severe toil. 

The hours appeared to hang on their hands, and every 
minute seemed lengthened tenfold. 

What the mystery of the vaults might prove they knew 
not, but they felt that it was something which interested 
them in some way. 

The discovery of any villainy done by their uncle and 
guardian would probably give them some latent power 
over him. 

Then, too, they were in hopes to meet their lovers, and 
by their aid escape with their beloved and persecuted 
mother from the despotic influence of their cruel foe. 

“ There is the thicket. The negro does not seem to be on 
the watch,” whispered Maria. 

Miriam gave a startled glance around, and then, putting 
her finger to her lips, entered the thicket. 

It was composed of an intricate series of paths, very 
much after the fashion of a maze; but, after several futile 
attempts, they succeeded in nearing the walls of the castle. 

They even made out a sort of loophole, or air-hole, from 
the vaults. 

“If this should prove the cell of the prisoner,” said 
Miriam, in a low tone, “ we may obtain some clew to guide 
us.” 

And suddenly clutching her sister’s hand, she advanced 
towards the desired spot. 

“Yah — yah!” said the mocking voice of the negro 
guardian; “what lilly lady want in de massa’s pnbate 
garden?” 

“ Surely we are doing no harm,” replied Miriam, rather 
more startled than she liked to own. 

“Only massa no ’low anybody yar,” was his significant 
response: “if you no b’leabe me, you ask him.” 

And waving his heavy club rather menacingly in the air, 


WIFE OB SLAVE f 


148 


lie pointed to the pathway which led out of the thicket, 
and the girls, utterly helpless, took the road indicated. 

The man saw them to the extremity of the thicket, and 
then, with an ironical bow, bade them good-morning. 

“ And you no try walk here any more,” he said, show- 
ing his jagged teeth; “ it not good for lilly misses’ health 
know too much.” 

And he returned to his point of vantage— a small hut 
which he appeared specially to occupy as guardian of the 
mysterious thicket. 

“More and more am I resolved,” said Miriam, Avhen 
they were out of hearing, “to solve this dread secret of 
the prison house. The marquis must he deeply conscious 
of some foul deed to have his prisoner so jealousy guarded. 
Who could it be — what can it mean?” 

“Some one who has offended his implacable temper. 
Of course, some innocent person, or else he would not be 
secreted here, ” responded Maria. 

Could they have known, could they have suspected even 
a faint glimmer of the truth ! 

As neither of them was inclined to continue their stroll, 
they went indoors, and in the society of their mother, the 
slow and weary hours passed away. 

The marchioness was exceedingly unwell, and unable to 
act with anything like vigor or animation. 

It was agreed, therefore, that, though she should sit up 
and wait the result of their adventure, she should not ac- 
company them. 

They would return with their lovers, and then a final 
decision would be come to. 

Their hope was, that once and forever they would that 
night leave the castle of Meriones and all it gloomy recol- 
lection behind . 

They dined mechanically. 

It was something to do, and then about nine o’clock 
were summoned all three to the reception-room of the 
castle. 

Visitors had come, ladies, and it w^as only meet that the 
marchioness and her daughters should receive them. 

As the two girls entered the great drawing-room sup- 
porting the feeble form of their mother, they found them- 
selves m the presence of the marquis and his son, ac- 
companied by three women, nuns of some severely ascetic 
order. 

As far as they could judge, they were three very strong 
and repulsive-looking women. 

“Why am I summoned here?” said the marchioness, 
sinking into a chair • “in my state of health, I should be 
waited uppHr’’ 


144 


WIF:^ or SLAYFf 


“Had We been told, we would have saved you the 
arduous journey,” said the marquis, with a cold and bitter 
sneer ; ‘ ‘ but as you are here, it will not be necessary to 
return. These ladies who honor us with their presence are 
three of the Black Nuns of Serano.” 

“I have heard of them,” responded the marchioness, 
coldly, “as women who devote their lives to the care and 
education of misguided females.” 

“And of obstinate and disobedient girls,” said the 
marquis, sternly. “These ladies wait for the company of 
your daughters. Until they learn proper discipline, and 
break oif forever with their heretic, fortune-hunting lovers, 
they will remain in their custody.” 

The marchioness arose, as if to hurl an imprecation at 
the other’s head, and fell back speechless. 

“Monster of iniquity, we are free women, and you dare 
not inflict such an infamy upon us !” cried Miriam, wildlj^ 

“ Therefore we absolutely refuse to go. We will never 
be taken there living !” added Maria. 

“Young ladies,” said one of the women, in a harsh tone 
of mingled threatening and coaxing, “you have been con- 
fided to our care for a certain period, and had better come 
quietly. We shall be able to use force if necessary.” 

‘ ‘ I appeal against this foul cruelty. Man, you dare not 
take my lambs to that den of infamy, that prison for foul 
and lost women!” exclaimed the wretched mother. “You 
dare not put this fearful insult on your brother’s children.” 

“Marchioness,” replied her brother-in-law in haughty 
accents, “ you have brought it on yourself. You have in 
every way defied my authority; you have allowed your 
daughters to carry on a clandestine correspondence with 
heretics and fortune-hunters, and I, their guardian, have 
obtained leave from the proper authorities to confine them 
at Serano until such time as these craven lovers leave the 
country.” 

‘ ‘ Craven lovers ! Men of evil and of crime, you dare not 
face them ! They would treat you like whipped curs rather 
than men!” cried Miriam. “Beware! they are at hand, and 
know where we are concealed ” 

“Away with the mad girls!” said the marquis, in a 
furious tone ; ‘ ‘ you hear how they defy us. Tell your ex- 
cellent abbess what you have seen.” 

The women advanced, as if to lay hands on them. 

“ Mercy !” cried Maria, falling on her knees. “Do not 
let us go with them. Confine us in the dungeons below, 
rather.” 

“Eh, what?” exclaimed the marquis, exchanging an 
alarmed look with his son; “what know you of the dun- 
geons below?” 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


145 


‘‘ That thoy contain at least one victim already of your 
foul and wicked crimes.” 

A cold and cruel smile passed over the face of the master 
of the house. 

“So,” he said, “you have been prying into my secrets. 
’Tis well I know it ; for the future you will have no chance 
of doing so.” 

He struck a gong, and several servants entered. 

“ Bring the two young ladies’ riding dresses at once, and 
let the horses be ready in half an hour. I will myself es- 
cort you and see you safe within the convent walls,” he add- 
ed. “I shall never be content until you are under firm 
and judicious restraint. Resistance is simply folly.” 

It would be impossible to describle the scene which fol- 
lowed. 

The fainting mother, the frantic girls, who gave way at 
last to the abject terror which the very name of the con- 
vent excited in their minds, the sullen servants hardly lik- 
ing to back up their master. 

Above all, the cruel, stern and immovable nuns. 

No human passion or feeling touched them. 

They awaited the attendants, clothed the wretched vic- 
tims, and then bore them more dead than alive to a litter 
prepared for them, carried by four mules. 

Then they mounted in company with the marquis and 
his son, and started on their weary and terrible journey . 

The castle was left to the charge of the major-domo and 
servants ; only one of whom, the faithful Naomi, remained 
wil-h her unfortunate mistress. 

She was carried to the room and placed upon the couch 
where, for some time, she remained, shrieking for her 
children, and calling down Heaven’s vengeance upon their 
merciless persecutors. 

The terrible scene having been described to the young 
men, Charles, with a dark, gloomy frown on his face, 
spoke : 

“My lady marchioness,” he said, “there is but one 
course for you to pursue ; you must leave this place at once 
— place yourself under the protection of Colonel Fitz- 
patrick, and expose the shameful and unnatural conspir- 
acy.” 

“Do with me as you please,” she .said, sobbing on the 
shoulder of the girl; “ but why hamper^yourselves with a 
weak and useless old woman?” 

“ Madam, ” answered Charles, in a voice in which deep 
emotion was- distinctly visible, “I hope some day to call 
you by the sacred name of mother. Rest on me as you 
would upouu son,’^ 


146 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


She burst into g. wild paroxysm of tears, and at once al- 
lowed herself to be led away. 

They crossed the vaults and reached the cavern on the 
outside of the castle. 

The litter had been already made, and the wretched be- 
ing whom they had rescued from the vaults was already 
lying in it fast asleep. 

“ You will find room for this lady,” said Charles. 

This matter was soon settled, and all bearing the litter 
in turns, they advanced slowly toward the great cave of 
the mountains. 

When they entered the cavern, Norah and Di rushed 
forward to meet them. 

“ Where are the girls?” they cried. 

“In the Black Convent of Serano,” was the gloomy an- 
swer. 

‘ ‘ They have never dared !” exclaimed the angry Irish 
officer. 

“ They have,” said Charles ; ‘ ‘ but here is the marchioness 
and some wretched victim of the villain whom we have 
rescued from the castle vaults— both need attention and 
repose.” 

The two unfortunates were conveyed into one of the 
chambers scooped out in the rock. 

Both were heavily inclined for sleep, and were left, 
therefore, with only a small lamp. 

A domestic, a half-caste negress and Mexican was de- 
tached to watch with them all night. 

Then the young count, the colonel, and the two attaches 
of the American Embassy, seated themselves around a 
fire, and the whole state of things was laid before the 
colonel. 

“I, for one,” said the young count, “ am so determined 
to rescue Clara, that I have already entered into treaties 
wdth some of the gold-diggers of the mountains, and if 
everthing else fails, I shall storm the guard-house and 
make a forcible entry.” 

“Forbear,” said the colonel; “ we will think of that as 
a last resource. In the first place we must try gentle 
means. When the marchioness is in presence of a judge, 
she can state her whole case, make affidavit on oath, and 
I believe, with my influence, we may get them all out of 
this den.”,^ 

“My own opinion is the same as the conde’s,” put in 
Charles. ‘ ‘ I should storm the place and release all those 
unjustly detained.” 

“ And never leave the country alive,” answered Colonel 
Fitzpatrick. “We must exhaust every fair means first, 
and then— well, if you choose to risk your necks for 


WIFE OB SLAVE? 147 

your lady-loves, I suppose youth will be youth, and you 
must.” 

‘ ‘ I am sure my Clara will never get out by any means 
but force,” said the conde. 

“And when you get her out?” asked the Irishman, 
gravely. 

“I must fly to where the law will enable me to marry 
her,” he said, proudly. 

“It is now the hour of four,” observed the colonel; 
“let us rest, and defer further conversation until the 
morning.” 

The two friends — we might say the three friends — arose 
and left the w^orthy oflicer to his reflections. 

They were too excited and anxious to care for sleep. 

They ordered coffee, and lighting cigars, the three young 
men talked. 

Morning came, and the trio began to think of obtain- 
ing a little rest previous to being called to a late break- 
fast. 

They were in the act of wishing one another good-night, 
when loud outcries claimed their attention. 

The servant who had been watching the two invalids 
came rushing in. 

“The gentleman and lady .have gone mad!” she cried. 

They entered the cavern, followed by the astounded 
and astonished Fitzpatrick, and beheld the marchioness 
sobbing on the neck of the unfortunate prisoner of the 
vaults. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my husband 1 my darling husband 1 — can it be him 
—are you in truth alive?” she gasped, in choked accents. 

The wretched man looked a little less haggard than be- 
fore. 

“I am the Marquis Di Trejico,” he said, in a hollow tone ; 
“ who speaks?” 

“Your wife!” she gasped. 

“Am J. alive or dead? Am I in purgatory?” he whis- 
pered. 

“Good God!” cried the colonel; “is this really my old 
friend, the marquis?” 

“Oolonel Fitzpatrick,” ho said, in a strange tone, “ liow 
came I here? Who has released me from the clutches of 
my foul and unnatural brother?” 

“ These gentlemen, ” said the colonel, rubbing his eyes; 
“but, my dear Trejico, you have been supposed dead 
many years?” 

“Yes,” he continued; “but give me wine; and oh, my 
dear wife, whom I 'never expected to see again, listen to a 
tale of matchless villainy !” 


148 


WIFE OB SLAVE 9 


CHAPTEK XXX. 

A TALE OF MATCHLESS SUFFERING. 

It was some minutes before any one could realize the 
fact that the true marquis was alive. 

The marchioness, despite her bitter grief in relation to 
her daughters, could not conceal her rapture and delight. 

“Dead to me for years,” she cried, “and thus merci- 
fully restored to me !” 

“ For years!” he said, staring around. 

“ But, my noble and esteemed friend,” observed the col- 
onel, “ allow me to suggest that before you exhaust your- 
self by any other speech, you should refresh yourself. You 
used to be the same size as myself, and I believe a bath 
and a change of wardrobe would do more to restore you 
than aught else.” 

“Above all, do not let my identity be known beyond 
your immediate circle,” said the dead-alive, speaking in a 
hollow, stern voice. “When I come before the world, it 
must be as the pitiless avenger of blood.” 

“Everything shall be as you wish,” replied the colonel, 
who summoned his major-domo and two active young 
peons, who were ordered to provide the marquis with 
everything he required and to assist in dressing him. 

When the marquis reappeared, supported by the two 
attendants, his hair cut and disentangled, his face cleansed, 
all could see the change even more distinctly. 

He was propped up with cushions beside his wife, and 
began slowly and tremblingly to eat his breakfast. 

“ That scoundrel,” he said, presently, “no doubt believes 
me dead. When he last closed the door of my cell, he left 
me without bread and water. He meant to starve me to 
death, and swore never to return to my dungeon.” 

“ All the better,” put in Colonel Fitzpatrick. “ He will 
not discover your escape.” 

“True — the cold-hearted villain! Ah, wife, how could 
you ever believe I would leave you and my daughters to 
the guardianship of my base-born, illegitimate brother?” 

All stared, too surprised for speech. 

“ Base-born !” cried the Irishman; “the desperate vaga- 
bond !” 

“ He was older than I. Before my father ever saw his 
wife, my mother, he had formed an illicit connection with 
a beautiful Louisianian quandroon, a slave.” 

“Great Heaven!” cried the marchioness; “and this 
cold-blooded villain has tried to prove me a slave and no 
wife.” 


WIFE on SLAVE f 149 

The marquis looked wildly at her, while the two young 
Americans exchanged erlances. 

“Now that I know the fiend — now that all his villainy is 
revealed to me in its cold-blooded nakedness, I can believe 
anything,” said the marquis; “ but let us talk no more of 
him now. Let me collect my thoughts and tell you all in 
proper order.” 

Charles Leicester and Arthur Denby arose. 

“We will not intrude on a family council,” said the 
former. 

“These gentlemen are friends of yours, colonel?” said 
the marquis, courteously. 

“Yes — brave Americans, connected with the embassy,” 
replied Fitzpatrick, with a smile. 

“Suitors, my dear Henry,” said his wife, “for the hands 
of your daughters. Not knowing of your existence, I have 
approved their suit. It is to release me, also your daugh- 
ters, from accursed bondage, that they are here in the 
mountains.” 

“Be seated, caballeros,” said the marquis, with grave 
politeness. “Your intentions alone give you a right to 
hear my story.” 

“ From an early age my father let me into the secret of 
my brother’s birth. 

“ Without being very fond of him, he was led as much as 
possible to do justice to him, and when he died, left him 
entirely to my charge. 

‘ ‘ I must say that I rather liked him. 

“He appeared very much attached to me, was out- 
wardly deeply grateful for all I did, and with deep and 
hypocritical humility, even accepted all I did for him as a 
favor. 

“ In addition to a small fortune left to him by my father, 
I allowed him a very liberal salary, as intendant of all my 
numerous estates. This enabled him to live well, to keep 
up a position, and even move in society. 

“I never betrayed his position, and allowed the outer 
world to think what they pleased. 

“I know now that I was wrong, and should not have 
encouraged the wicked and base impostor. 

‘ ‘ He was often absent, sometimes for a year, living up 
here in the mountains, to look after my gold mines. 

“ Up here he married, and resided for many years with 
his wife in the castle of Meriones, which I, as a rule, only 
visited once a year. 

“ I heard rumors that his life was rather wild and law- 
less; but I never received any confirmation of what ap- 
peared to me idle calumnies, ” continued the marquis. 

“ People say,” interrupted the conde, with a deprecating 


150 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


wave of the hand, “that he is identical with the great 
pirate of the prairies.” 

“Possible,” answered the marquis; “at all events, he 
has committed crimes worthy of such a ruffian, as you will 
soon hear.” 

“It is now nearly five years ago that there was a great 
pronimciamento in this state. A powerful body of rebels, 
under Colonel Santiago, arose, proclaimed the state sepa- 
rated from the rest of Mexico, and captured nearly all the 
chief towns. 

“ The president of the republic ordered me, in my capac- 
ity of general, to levy an army and march against the rev- 
olutionists. 

“I readily obeyed, always having done my duty to my 
country and my convictions. 

“ But it was^ easiei-^o make the essay than succeed. 

‘ ‘ The troops were discontented ; their pay was bad, and 
those who were to be trusted were required in the capital. 
In this strait I turned to my half-brother. I had immense 
accumulations, the saving of years, and I bade him use 
all this money to secure myself a sufficient following to 
put down the rebels. I trusted him in everything and 
truly found my reward. He was my aid-de-camp, my 
trusted adviser, and by my favor and influence was raised 
to the rank of colonel. * 

“We took up our quarters at Sonora town, the only spot 
free from the insurgents, and there called together our 
forces. 

“ The number of recruits who came in was great. 

‘ ‘ At last I found myself at the head of a strong force. 

“ But in the meantime the rebels had not been idle, and 
collecting all the discontented classes, they announced 
their intention of besieging me where I lay. I, however, 
was determined not to be cooped up in a Availed toAvn, and 
consequently at once marched out to meet the rebel force. 

“ They were camped in the mountains, but were belieA^ed 
to be in a sufficient force to venture on a pitched battle. 

“ ‘ Send out scouts,’ I said to my_ aid-de-camp ^and broth- 
er : ‘ if these fellows will not come down to meet us, we 
must meet them.’ 

“ ‘ I have sent out the best runners in our army,’ Avas 
the eager reply, ‘ and rely upon it we shall have a good ac- 
count of them.’ 

“We had marched all the morning, until the heat of the 
day became considerable, and I declared a halt near a 
number of thickets, at no great distance from an extensiA-^e 
foiest. EA^ery man Avas allowed two hours for refreshment 
and repose, Avhile on all sides picked men were placed as 
sentries. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


151 


“I seated myself beneath a wide-spreading tree, and in- 
dulged in my favorite habit of smoking. 

‘ ‘ As soon as I had h nished smoking, I felt a drowsiness 
come over me. 

“ Suddenly I was awakened by loud shouts, the sudden 
ring of musketry, and then horrible groans and cries. 

“I started up, my head heavy, my whole senses suffer- 
ing from stupefaction and fright. 

“T was surrounded by my own faithful body-guard, 
which had been surprised by vastly overwhelming forces, 
and which was being cut down without mercy. 

“ ‘ Heaven !’ I cried ; ‘ where is my brother?’ 

“No one could say. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Muerte—niiierte I Kill, slay the marquis !” cried savage 
voices — the voices of men who knew me, doubtless. 

“I roused my almost benumbed faculties, and fought 
desperately. 

“But we were fatally overmatched, and at last, stunned 
and insensible, I fell to the ground. 

“ It is impossible for me to say how long I remained in 
this state, but when I came to myself, I was alone — alone, 
however, with the dead, and with other companions more 
loathsome. 

“ It was a moonlit night, and as I raised myself on my 
elbow, I saw that the carrion was at work. 

“A number of vultures were tearing their victirqs to 
pieces with savage energy. 

“ In the distance I heard the whining cry of the coyote 
and prairie wolf stealthily approaching. 

‘ ‘ I was weak from loss of blood, but I was able, with 
my left hand — the right was disabled — to draw my re- 
volver. 

“As the heads of the cowardly and savage beasts ap- 
proached, I fired steadily at them, and away went some of 
the troop bowline:. 

“ Then I sank once more on the ground, I was perishing 
from thirst, I but a few hours ago the commander of a gay 
and gallant army, the Qwner of vast estates and untold 
gold. I was burning with fever, and began to have some 
signs of delirium. 

“ There was no hope for me but to die where I lay, and 
become food for the horrid vultures, wolves and other fear- 
ful things, which collect from far and near when the bat- 
tle’s agony is over. 

“ Hard as it was, I tried to resign myself to my fate, but 
could not do so. 

‘ ‘ What thoughts of my wife and little ones — of the happy 
home which I had left at the voice of duty! 


152 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


‘‘ Then suddenly it occurred to me to ask myself what 
had become of my brother. 

“ Had he been slain when the first attack was made? 

‘ ‘ Alas ! I should never know ; for was not death slowly 
creeping on me? 

“No ! What is it? — voices. Ah ! am I then to be saved? 

“ The voices were clearly afar off ; but I could distinctly 
make out not only the speech of many men, but the heavy 
tramp as of a pa;trol. 

“Presently I saw a number of heavily-cloaked men 
emerge from under the adjacent trees in the gray moon- 
light. 

“ ‘ He must have fallen here,’ said the choked and indis- 
tinct voice of my half-brother. 

“ How gladly I heard those tones; how my heart beat 
wdldly as I saw a prospect of salvation. 

“ ‘ I am here,’ I cried, in a voice which absolutely start- 
led me ; ‘ water !’ 

‘ ‘ He approached, lantern in hand, and looked me full in 
the face. 

“ I could see his own countenance was fixed and ghastly. 

“ ‘Not dead?’ he muttered, with a peculiar intonation 
that struck me with half amazement, half terror; ‘try 
this.’ 

“And he held the grateful, welcome flask of wine and 
water to my dry, eager lips. 

“ ‘ Thank you,’ I said, with a sigh of deep relief. ‘What 
has happened? How is it I am here?’ 

“ ‘ I will explain all presently,’ he continued, in a hoarse 
tone : ‘ the first thing is to remove you from here. The 
enemy are prowling about, and may surprise us at any 
moment.’ 

“Then making a sign, a horse-litter was brought up, 
myself placed inside, and we started. 

‘ ‘ I was so weak and even light-headed, that I could 
make no effectual resistance, even if I had desired so to do, 
but I did not. 

“ I dozed away for some time, and when I again awoke 
to consciousness, it was broad daylight. 

“ I could only, however, make it out througli the cur- 
tains which shrouded me. 

‘ ‘ Presently the mules halted, and I knew that I was 
being carried by men. 

‘ ‘ Then I was laid down, and shortly after placed upon 
a bed in a small, low-roofed room, which I did not recog- 
nize, 

“Then I was attended by a strange priest and woman, 
the former of whom declared that my case was very pre- 
cariovis, 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


m 


“It was within the range of possibility that I might re- 
cover, but there was an almost equal chance the other 
way. 

“ ‘ Send for my wife and children at once,’ I said to my 
brother, who was standing by my bedside. 

“ ‘ As soon as possible, brother,’ he answered ; ‘ but you 
must know that we are in the castle of Meriones, beset on 
oil sides by the rebels, and that it will be difficult to send a 
message. Still, dictate one, and then, if you will sign it, I 
will send it at once. ’ ” 

“ A messenger did come,” interrupted the marchioness, 
“ to say that you had perished on the battlefield, and been 
buried with the others, hurriedly, while battling with the 
exultant foe.” 

“ I can believe anything now,” he answered, with a deep 
sigh. “I doubt not that when I signed these pretended 
messages, I signed other and more false documents.” 

“ Did you make him, in writing, uncontrolled guardian 
over your wife and daughters?” asked the colonel, “and 
declare him your legitimate heir to the title and certain 
estates?” 

“Never, so help me, Heaven!” cried the marquis, with 
quivering and trembling lips — “never!” 

“ Then he has added forgery to his other crimes,” said 
the colonel, as he produced all the necessary documents to 
convince me. 

“ You will hear all,” said the marquis. 

“Several days passed, during which he led me on by 
promises— told me messengers had started, and fed me witla 
continual hope. 

“ Then at last he showed the cloven foot. 

“ ‘ To-morrow, come what will,’ I said, ‘I shall start for 
home. They must be enduring an agony of suspense !’ 

“ ‘ Nothing of the kind,’ he answered, with a bitter and 
savage sneer ; ‘ they are perfectly reconciled to the decrees 
of Providence — they believe you dead and buried.’ 

“ ‘ And you allow them to believe this unhappy false- 
hood?’ I cried. 

“ ‘ I have sent myself to say that you are dead and bur- 
ied, which you are,” was the cruel answer. 

“‘Am I going mad?’ was my wailing cry ; ‘tell me, in 
mercy, what am I to believe?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ What you please, ’ he said. ‘ Brother, I have long since 
wearied of playing the toady, the dependent, the poor 
relation, hanging on to the skirts of splendor, seeing the 
sweets and glories of power and wealth, and enjoying them 
not.’ 

“ ‘ Man, what mean you?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ That,' placed by our common father’s wickedness in 


154 


WIFE on SLAVE? 


an inferior position to yourself, I, your elder brother, have 
ever regarded you with intense and undying hatred, and 
for years have planned to supplant you and take your 
place,’ he went on. ‘ Do you think I have been your sub- 
servient lackey for nothing?’ 

“ ‘Which you are!’ I cried, in my wild and tempestuous 
passion ; ‘ a base, cowardly slave, without one spark of the 
virtue which is sometimes found in the negro.’ 

‘ ‘ I tried to rise, as I saw in his face the fiendish look of 
hate and fury. 

“He clinched his fist as if to strike me. 

“ ‘ No 1’ he said, with a hoarse laugh ; ‘ why strike a man 
who is already dead and buried? Those words are your 
death-warrant. You shall, never live to repeat them to 
mortal ears.’ 

“‘Would you slay your brother, monstrous hypoc]*ite 
and villain?’ I cried. 

“ ‘ I will not shed your blood,’ he answered ; ‘ but in this 
castle of Meriones there are, as you know, cells where you 
may linger for years, and no one be the wiser. ’ 

‘ ‘ I glared at him with an awe which bereft me of utter- 
ance. 

“ ‘While you are shivering in the cold, dying by inches, 
fed on bread and water, I shall sit at your board, eat well 
and fare sumptuously. More, recollect I am no true blood 
relation, and by means of my influence and timely offer- 
ings to the church, I shall wed your glorious daughter 
Miriam — my son unite himself wuth Maria.’ 

“ I know that I burst out into revelings and impreca- 
tions, that I flew into so great a passion that I fainted. 

‘ ‘ When some memory came back, I was lying on straw 
in the cell where you found me. 

“ I attempted to rise, and found that by a refinement of 
cruelty incredible on the part of one on whom I had lav- 
ished nothing but kindness, I was chained to the wall. 

“ Light came in from a grating, and revealed the fearful 
horror of my position. 

“In the first moment of my despair my passion was wild 
and tempestuous. 

“Gradually I grew calmer, and thanked Providence it 
was so, for I was to receive a visit from my cruel and fiend- 
ish oppressor. 

“ ‘ I am about to leave Meriones for some months. Your 
family will want change of air and scene, and I shall pro- 
pose foreign travel.’ 

“ ‘Fiend! my wife and children will see through your 
treacherous hypocrisy, ’ I cried, ‘ and defy your base plot- 
tings.’ 

“ ‘Kave away,’ he said. ‘ Farewell. Probably we may 


WIFE OR SLA VE 9 m 

never meet again— and yet I will give you one more 
chance.' 

“ ‘ What is that?’ I asked, mockingly. 

“ ‘ Make a will, declaring me your universal heir and 
legatee, with guardianship of your family, and instead of 
this cell you shall have a suite of rooms in the ruined wing 
of the castle, and be treated with kindness.’ 

“ ‘ Tempter— fiend !’ I cried. ‘Never will I rob my dar- 
lings for such a base and cowardly knave !’ 

“ lie bowed low with a savage and mocking laugh, and 
left me — left me for many months.” 

The marquis continued*^ his story after a short pause. 

“I had bread, water, and having a little money and 
many diamonds, a bottle of wine when I cared to have it. 

“ My jailer was a savage, brutal negro, with an avari- 
cious, slavish soul, and he would do nothing save for 
lucre. 

“ When he found the value of some of the diamonds that 
adorned my wallet, he condescended to let me have the 
extras I have told you of, exacting from me first a solemn 
oath never to reveal anything to his employer. 

“This promise of course I readily gave. 

“ He even allowed me a liglit at night, and some books 
from my own library. 

“ But to my entreaties for pen, ink and paper he turned 
a deaf ear. 

“I offered him a fortune, an estate, money, if he would 
convey a letter to my wife. 

“ He answered, with a grin, that fortune, estates, money 
would be of little value to a man after he had been skinned 
alive, which was the fate promised him if he showed me 
any favor. 

“ At last I ceased to implore him, and fell back upon my 
bleak destiny in sullen dignity. 

“ Naturally, I coidd hope for no alleviation of my sorry 
fate. 

“After what my cruel half-brother had done, he could 
expect no mercy from myself or from society. 

“ But I believe in no heart that ever beat — in no bosom 
that ever heaved, is there ever an entire abandonment of 
hope. 

“And thus what appeared many years passed away, 
when the negro hurriedly entered my cell, caught up my 
books and lamp, and prepared to hurry away, as if afraid 
of their being seen. 

“ ‘ What’s the matter?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Hush! here’s massa. Take bery good care what um 
say,’ he replied, in a low, frightened whisper, and fled. 

“Shortly after, hauglity^ oooted and spurred, and 


156 WIFE OR ELAVEf 

dressed as a man of rank and fashion, my brother entered 
the cell. 

“ Confinement agrees with you,’ he said, with a cold and 
bitter sneer. 

‘ I am not dead yet. Providence preserves me for a 
great and good purpose,’ I answered. 

“ ‘ Have you thought better of my offer?” he said; ‘a 
comfortable bed, attendance, warmth, good food, in re- 
turn for what never can be of the faintest use to you.’ 

‘ Never will I barter my birthright and the fortune of 
my children for selfish comfort. Do your worst — slay me 
— starve me — do as you will, but make me sign anything 
you never will.” 

“ ‘I am going to Europe on a tour. I shall take your 
eldest daughter with me. We shall probably be married 
before I return,’ he added fiendishly. 

“ ‘ She will never so lower and degrade herself,’ was my 
impetuous answer. 

‘‘ ‘ We shall see,’ he added, laughing. 

“ ‘ Every law, human and divine, repudiates such an al- 
liance, and no priest will dare solemnize it,’ I continued. 

“ ‘ In Europe I shall drop all allusion to the relation- 
ship,’ he sneered. 

“ ‘ But my noble, high-minded daughter will never con- 
sent to such a foul and unnatural union 1’ 

“Then the vile monster, keeping strictly beyond my 
reach, beyond the limit of my chain, spoke in a low, unct- 
uous whisper: 

“ ‘ Last time we met you called me a base-born slave. 
Senor Henri, Marquis of Trejico, you will allow you were 
married in Louisiana,’ he said. 

“‘I was; the girl I married was by birth, education, 
and connection a perfect lady,’ I cried. 

“ ‘I know better,’ he said, with his cold and fiendish 
sneer. ‘ I have been to Pensecola, where you were mar- 
ried. I have found out the man from whom you bought 
the quadroon, whom you married in a false aristocratic 
name. I have all the papers and the documents which 
passed ; among your papers, I have found the bill of sale, 
the receipt for four thousand dollars, the fancy price this 
man charged you for the fair mother of your childien?’ 

“ I could not speak. 

“I foamed at the mouth with rage. 

“ I struggled to get at him. 

“‘I have agreed to keep this dread secret from all. 
Even in modern and philosophical Mexico, you would not 
dare to introduce the children of a slave mother as jrour 
heiresses,’ he continued; ‘ but I have revealed the secret to 
them. Hence they are as tame as lambs, and being what 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 257 

they are, will only be too glad of the alliance offered 
them.’ 

“ ‘Monster, villain, liar!’ I gasped. ‘Leave me — away! 
Let me not see your face more, let me not hear your foul 
voice. But you lie, you know you lie! My pure and 
noble daughter will never wed with a base-born negro— go !’ 

“With white face and distorted features, he left me, and 
again a long and weary blank ensued. 

“ Once more I tried to bribe my keeper, but wholly in 
vain. 

“ He was inexorable. 

“He even threatened to withdraw the few indulgences 
which he allowed me. 

“I began to think of escape, and searched my cell for 
some means of breaking the chain. I had shown myself 
so patient and submissive that the negro had ceased all 
precaution, would leave the door open while he cleansed 
out my cell, to which he brought clean straw once a week. 

“ But the only tool of any kind which I could find was a 
flint stone, with which I tried to break the links of my 
chain. 

“ In vain. 

“Before I had had it one week in my possession, the 
negro entered my cell with a fierce and angry look. 

“ ‘ What you hammer with?’ he said ; ‘ you tell me.’ 

“ And the scoundrel raised a huge bludgeon to me. 

“ With a look of proud disdain, I cast it at his feet. 

“ ‘ A very harmless weapon,’ I said, wearily. 

“He made no response, but searched my cell all over, 
and removed any chance loose stones that were scattered 
on the floor. 

“The wretch was, I believe, in great fear of his em 
ployer, who probably paid him well for carrying out his 
fiendish and terrible duty. He was sulky and silent for 
some days, and only when I gave him another ring con- 
descended to furnish me with some extras. 

“Again weary days, months, it appeared years, passed 
away, and I seemed to grow old, very old. 

“ I became attenuated and thin, my appetite was 
wretched, and apathy stole gradually over me. 

“Despite my wish to live for vengeance, there came 
almost a longing for death. 

“It was, perhaps, a month since again my persecutor 
appeared before me. 

“ ‘Not dead yet?’ he said, malignantly. ‘ I had scarcely 
hoped to see you again. Still, as you are alive. I may 
make you useful.’ 

“ I made no answer. 

Your wife and daughters,’ he went op^ ‘are giving 


158 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


me great trouble. They have declared themselves here- 
tics ; and, as such, made themselves amenable to the 
laws.’ 

“ ‘ Thank Heaven!’ I answered. 

“‘They are persecuted by two heretic lovers, whom 
they profess to love. Now, they are quite welcome to 
marry, so that they take not their large fortunes out of 
the country. Do you sign this document, giving me half 
your estates — it Is dated five years ago— the other half to 
be divided between your daughters, and they shall be 
free.’ 

“ ‘ And if I refuse?’ 

“ ‘Beware! They are prisoners in my hands, av holly at 
my mercy.’ 

“ ‘ Can I see them?’ 

“ ‘ Sign, and you shall see them, unknown to them ; hear 
them speak.’ 

“‘I will never disinherit my children,’ T answered 



“ ‘Beware!’ he coldly continued; ‘I am weary of keep- 
ing you alive. It is a great deal of trouble and expense. 
I shall abandon the castle of Meriones soon, and shall not 
leave any one to Avait on you.’ 

“ ‘ I do not understand.’ 

“ ‘Your last food will be placed beside you, and you 
may trust to Providence for more,’ he sneered. 

“ ‘ Heav^en will have mercy,’ I said, ‘ if man has not. Do 
your worst.’ 

“And he Avent away, leaving me chilled with horror at 
the idea of starvation. 

“ The rest you know.’' 

“ It is an awful, a fearful story !” said the gallant colonel ; 
“ but this vile Avretch shall now meet with the punishment 
he deserves.” 

It was resolved to rest until night, when, under cover of 
the darkness, they could re-enter the castle and take 
measures for the exposure and punishment of the arch 
criminal. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


FACE TO FACE. 

It was about nine o’clock in the evening when the whole 
party began their journey. 

They reached tlfie secret entrance to the cave without 
hindrar'^e or molestation. 

The 1 es were left in the cavern under the care of the 
guides, .d then the whole party, well armed, entered the 
building 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 159 

The marchioness returned to her room while the others 
were concealed in neighboring apartments. 

“Say nothing of my absence,” said her mistress to 
Naomi, in a tone of calm resolution that rather surprised 
the girl ; ‘ ‘ but when your master returns, say that I wish 
to see him at once.” 

Soon after this there was a loud knocking at the gate. 

We must not omit to mention that as soon as Naomi re- 
tired, Norah and Di installed themselves by the couch of 
the countess, who, despite her courage, was very helpless. 

“Be brave, my dear madame,” said Norah. “ You have 
nothing to fear.” 

The loud voice of the supposed marquis was heard in the * 
courtyard, and presently, booted and spurred, he entered 
the apartment, followed by his son. 

Both started as they recognized the daughters of the 
colonel. 

“To what,” faltered the false marquis, “do we owe the 
pleasure of this unexpected visit?” 

“These young ladies, the friends and former playmates 
of my daughters, have come to visit them. I ask you at 
once to produce them,” was the stern and haughty reply. 

“ Your daughters have left my guardianship. Doubtless 
they are by this time fleeing with their heretic lovers,” was 
the response. 

“Liar!” said the marchioness, rising, “ flend and liar, 
your crimes are ended. Behold the avenger !” she added, 
pointing to the doorway. 

There stood the marquis, supported by Charles Leicester 
and Arthur Denby. 

The villain turned to flee, but the doorway was blocked 
up by Colonel Fitzpatrick and three of the party. 

The false marquis felt in his own mind that, the game of 
life was up, but he determined to brazen it out. 

“ What a levee !” he said ; “ and who may this old maniac 
be?” 

“Your brother and your judge! Wretch, for the years 
of suffering I have endured, you shall know what confine- 
ment is at the galleys !” cried the marquis, in a hollow tone. 
“Seize the wretches, and take them away lest I take the 
punishment into my own hands.” 

The false marquis drew a pistol from his belt and took 
steady aim. 

“ If I must die, I will not die alone,” he said, wj/ ” a loud 
laugh and fired. 

His aim had been at his brother, over the should of the 
gallant young American. • 

How it happened it was impossible to say, but following 


160 WIFE OR SLAVE 9 

the discharge of the pistol there was a cry, and then a 
scream of agony. 

“Saved !” said the voice of Norah, who would have sunk 
to the ground but for the supporting arm of Charles 
Leicester. 

“My God !” he cried, as^the blood welled from her bosom, 

‘ ‘ the wretch has killed her !” 

A scene of wild confusion followed. 

All turned to look for the assassin. 

He and his son had fled. 

Charles lifted Norah on the couch which had been 
occupied by the marchioness. 

“ My poor girl,” he said, “why did you do so foolish a 
thing? Better have let the villain slay me than lose your 
life — you so young, so beautiful.” 

“ Tis better so,” she whispered, so [faintly, none else 
could hear. “ ’Tis sweet to die for those we love. I may 
say that now,” she continued, “and even Miriam cannot 
be jealous now.” 

Charles could make no reply. 

That he had won the affections of that gentle and inno- 
cent heart he had long suspected, and so sweet was her 
nature, that but for his previous attachment to Miriam, 
he felt he could have loved the noble Irish girl. 

And now to save him she was dying. 

He could only press her hand, as her distracted father 
and sister leaped panting over her couch. 

“My darling Norah,” said the colonel, “surely some- 
thing can be done. You will not let her die !” 

“Stand back!” exclaimed the priest, who now entered. 
“ She has not many minutes to live.” 

And as all respected his office, if they did not the man, 
they reverently drew back, while the poor, bleeding girl 
whispered some words to the priest, who gently prayed be- 
side her. 

Then he arose, and cast a veil over her face. 

All was over. 

The colonel was stunned as his daughter Di led him 
away. _ 

“ Where is the assassin?” cried Charles. “He shall not 
escape. With my own hands will I slay the miscreant!” 

And closely followed by Den by and the young count, the 
Tuifortunate young man, innocent cause of the girl’s death, 
dashed along the passages in search of the traitor. 

“A thousand ounces for Trejico, dead or alive!” sliouted 
the marquis. 

Everybody dispersed in search of the false marquis, but 
neither he nor his son could be found, 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 161 

He could not have left by the entrance, as the gates had 
been closed. 

A patrol was organized to search the old ruin. 

Charles Leicester was furious. 

No thought of sleep entered his head. 

He knew that at daylight a party would start in search 
of the girls, but he could take no rest. 

Overlooking the gardens was a terrace, on which the two 
young men took their station when the house was still. 

“ Heavens!” cried Charles Leicester, as he walked up and 
down the terrace, ‘‘ that such a fiend should have a chance 
of escape. Surely he cannot have got out of the castle by 
the connivance of some of the servants?” 

‘ ‘ I think not. They seem truly glad to see their old 
master. No, he is surely in hiding somewhere,” replied 
Denby;/‘an old castle like this must have many hiding- 
places.” 

As he said this in a whisper, they heard something like 
the sound of falling stones in the direction of the ruins. 

“Hist!” said Charles, in a voice of deep and suppressed 
emotion; “ here, in the shade.” 

Denby drew back under the wall and again listened. 

The noise was repeated, and then they distinctly heard 
voices. 

“Yonder,” whispered Denby, pointing to an old tower, 
of which only a kind of Avell staircase remained intact. 

They made out three men, three dark shadows, rather, 
descending the steps, many of which were loose, stones 
giving way as they cautiously descended. 

Now this tower was on the other side of the garden, at a 
distance of nearly fifty yards . 

There was a flight of steps going down to the garden, 
and down these the two young men went. 

They carried pistols and a short dagger sword. 

Dead or alive they meant to take them. 

In a few minutes they had crossed the garden and were 
at the foot of the tower. 

No one was visible. 

“ Where can they have hidden themselves?” said Charles ; 
“ what jugglery is this?” 

“Hist!” replied Denby, as he heard the neighing of a 
horse at no great distance. 

Both dashed down and found a postern gate open, 
through which the three men passed. 

“ Stop, or I’ll fire!” shouted Charles, as he saw his prey 
escaping. 

“ Fire, and be hanged to you!” responded the false mar- 
quis; “ any message for Sebano? I go to fetch my prize.” 

The two fired, but in the darkness probably without ef- 


162 


M’'£FE OR slave f 


feet, as the next jnoment the horses were heard galloping 
down the side or the hill, the men laughing jeeringly. 

“What is to be done ?’^cried Charles, hotly : “the vil- 
lains are off to the convent. Heaven knows, in their des • 
peration, what they may do.” 

^ Up, and after them !” replied the young man; “ not a 
moment i^ to fee Tost. ” 

In, the darkness and without a guide, it wa^mpossible to 
reach the convent. 

There was nothing for it but to wait. 

It was nearly* nin a o’clock when, much refreshed in body 
and mind, the marquis joined the young Americans and 
heard their story. 

The marquis shivered with horror. 

“ They are desperate men,” he said, “and will do some 
desperate deed, tf mey can induce the abbess- to give 
them up, they will secure the girls as hostages, and force 
us to terms.” 

‘ ' To horse !” replied the colonel, who came in with blood- 
shot eyes. 

The fugitives had, however, eight hours the advance of 
them, and during eight hours much might be done. 

Still all they could do was ride for their lives, and put 
their trust in Providence. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE FATE OF TREJICO. 

After his dastardly attempt to assassinate his brother, 
foiled by the loving devotion of the girl, the murderer 
stood for some minutes irresolute and stupefied. 

Even he shivered wrth horror at his own deed. 

He gazed wildly at his victim, and would certainly have 
fallen under the vengeful hand of Charles and the colonel 
but for the intervention of his son. 

“Come away,” he whispered; “are you mad? In a 
moment it will be too late.” 

And clutching his arm, he led his father away, and 
escaped in the confusion. 

The son was well aware of the haunts of the negro, who 
himself well knew several hiding-places in the ruins. 

There was one particular chamber in the thickness of the 
wall which he had discovered during his wanderings. 

It was a kind of cell, with a low bench to sit on, which, 
when the place had been used, served the purpose of a bed. 

It was a wretched, comfortless place with only some air 
holes for breathing. 

But the negro contrived to procure food and drink. 


WIFE OR SLAVE f m 

They thus passed away the time until night, not daring 
hardly to speak. 

The negro, when night came, ventured to descend and 
reconnoiter. 

He easily moved about without attracting attention^ and 
secured three horses, which he lead to a i^ostern gate. 

Then he once more rejoined his companions, who, breath- 
less, descended from their ignoble position. 

They moved with abject terror. 

Despite their vilL iny and determination to a desperate 
deed, they felt that until they were out of the castle, there 
was no safety. 

There were too many avengers of blood at their heels. 

They, however, reached the postern in safety, and hur- 
ried over the bridge which crossed the moat. 

Then came the startling interruption. 

“ I have to thank you very much, my American friends.” 
said the false marquis, “ but carajo! we shall see.” 

“Your plan, sir?” asked his son. 

‘ ‘ I shall carry off the girls, collect my band around me, 
and make Miriam queen of the savannahs,” cried the reck- 
less man. 

“ You will openly break with society?” said the son. 

“ Yes; what else have I to do? In our forest and mount- 
ain home we can defy all the police and algnazils of Mexi- 
co,” retorted his father. “Perhaps, however, it may not 
be necessary. If we secure the girls, we may obtain ran- 
som and security for ourselves. ” 

“And leave Mexico,” said the son. “I rather think 
your sweet brother would make it too hot to hold us.” 

“Yes; France or the United States will be safer places 
than Mexico,” cried the false marquis. “I have enough 
to live on in comfort. Fortunately, all my own money is 
in French Five per Cents.” 

“Yes, indeed,” replied the son, with something of a 
sneer. “You have been looking forward to some such 
events.” 

Then they urged forward their horses at a hot and 
furious pace, aware that as soon as the proper instrument^ 
were collected, he would be pursued with unrelenting 
hate. 

But the night, as we know, befriended them, and by 
mid-day they reached the plain in the center of which 
was the convent of Serano. 

“I hardly know what to say,” observed the false mar- 
quis. “ The abbess may be suspicious, and refuse to give 
up the girls.” 

“ I should have thought she would be glad to be released 
of the resnonsibilitv.” said the son. 


164 


WIFE OB SLAVE f 


“You forget the money. The amiable lady principal is 
fully alive to the value of gold,’’ he answered. 

‘ ‘ But you could threaten an appeal to the cardinal arch- 
bishop.” 

“I may threaten? No, we must be cautious and hum- 
ble. I must allege that I am sorry to confine them ; be- 
sides, I find inquiries are being made, and that I must pro- 
duce them.” 

They were soon hailed by the sentries and halted, 
while they took orders from within. 

They were ordered to be admitted, and were at once 
shown to the parloir of the lady abbess. 

“ I liad not hoped to see you so soon,” said the abbess, 
with a scrutinizing glance. 

“ Well — well, gracious lady , on reflection, I have decided 
to take my nieces away. Their mother is on her (Jeathbed, 
and nothing can satisfy her save a sight of her daughters.” 

‘ ‘ Indeed !” responded the lady, with a sarcastic smile, 
“ you have suddenly changed your mind.” 

“ Well, one cannot be wholly without feelings of hu- 
manity,’’ he answered. 

“ Fortunately for you, they have not passed the inevita- 
ble Kubicon, They have only been placed in probatory 
cells. Had they known some of the mysteries and secrets 
of our house, no power on earth could have set them free. ” 

Miriam and Maria were here ushered in. 

“ Your friends have come to take you away,” said the 
abbess. “ I hope you will be grateful.” 

“For what?” asked Miriam. 

“ So much forgiveness and kindness,” she said. 

“ I have yet to learn in what the kindness consists,” was 
the haughty reply. 

“ Your mother is seriously ill, and requires the presence 
of her children,” continued the woman. 

“Is this true, sir?” asked the girls, with one accord. 

“ Your mother is ill, and desires most anxiously to see 
you. Many things have happened since yesterday, which 
make your return to the world desirable,” said the false 
marquis. 

Miriam and Maria both detected a false ring in his voice, 
and yet the love of liberty, the anxiety to be near their 
mother, smothered every other feeling. 

“We are ready to follow,” they said, “if the abbess will 
allow us to prepare.” 

The abbess readily consented to lend them two saddle 
horses, and by four o’clock they were ready for depart- 
ure. 

The marquis was furious at the delay, which was par- 


tially caused by their not daring to refuse the offer of a 
meal. 

They fumed most furiously over it, but -like everything 
else, even a convent meal comes to an end. 

They then mounted, after bidding farewell to the abbess, 
and turned their backs on the dreary convent. 

Afar off on the plain they made out a cloud of horse- 
men. 

‘ ‘ Already, ” hissed the marquis, as he passed around to the 
back of the convent, and started for the hills behind, which 
were covered with a rich cloak of verdure. 

“But this is not the way home!'’ cried Miriam, as they 
sped across the plain. 

“ You will soon find that it is,” responded the false mar- 
quis, as he urged all the steeds at a rapid rate. 

The girls could, of, course, make no resistance. 

Meanwhile the pursuers were coming up. 

Colonel Fitzpatrick rode forward and gave his name to 
tlie guard. 

The abbess knew and respected the eminent Irishman, 
and was very polite. 

‘ ‘ Madame, this is the real Marquis Di Tre jico, and you 
have his daughters in your convent, placed here by a vile 
impostor, who calls himself by the title,” he began. 

“This is the marquis!” cried the woman, in dismay. 
“ Why the man I knew as the marquis has just left with 
the girls.” 

“ Left here long?” 

“A quarter of an hour; he went the reverse way to 
which he came,” she said, and indicated the direction. 

None waited for further news, but in ten minutes were 
scouring over the plain, the fugitives in sight. 

They could see the girls, and knew that their abductors 
were making every effort to escape. 

Suddenly they saw him lift his pistols, and threaten the 
girls. 

When the girls found that they had been deceived, and 
were not being taken in the direction of the Castle of 
Meriones, where their mother was supposed to be lying 
dangerously ill, they did all in their power to restrain the 
ardor of their horses. 

“ I will not be led away into some shameful and worse 
captivity,” said Miriam. “ False wretch, do your worst. I 
go no further !” 

“You shall never fall alive into the hands ot my mortal 
foes,” replied the sham marquis, with glaring eyes. 

As he spoke, he leveled a pistol at her head. 

“Slay Maria!” he cried, to his son. 

But the son was wise in his generation. 


166 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


“ To be slaughtered like sheep,” was the somber reply, as 
he knocked up the pistol, which exploded in the air. 

The girls were not slow to avail themselves of the op- 
portunity as the pursuers came rushing up. 

With a sudden jerk they turned around and darted 
away. 

The two men made no attempt to follow, but Arthur, 
Charles and the count, with three others, bade the girls 
join their friends and wait for them. 

When they returned, it was with the news that the false 
marquis had shot himself, the son escaping. 

He was never heard of any more. 

The marquis, disgusted with his country, and not wish- 
ing to part from his children, sold off his property, and 
transferred it all to his bankers in New York. 

Six months later all were in the metropolis, apd six 
months after that, Miriam became Mrs. Charles Leicester, 
and Maria, Mrs. Denby. 

Their father and mother, with Colonel Fitzpatrick and 
Di, live near them, while Nora is never forgotten. 


[the end.] 



WIFE OR SLAVE f 


167 


ESTHER. 


By the Author of ‘‘His First Love^' “ Dotf “ The CaptaMs 
Daughter f “ Nora's Sacrifice f dtc. 


CHAPTER I. 

It was all very still out of doors. The snow had come 
in the night and covered the broad fields, making a great 
silence everywhere. 

It was Sunday— early morning. The bells had not begun 
to chime from the dark church-tower. No one was astir 
in the little red-roofed houses of the village. 

Only one line of footsteps broke the smoothness of the 
snow along the wide turnpike road — small footprints they 
were. They marked the white surface in a long unbroken 
line from the door of the great gabled house about a mile 
from the village to a grave close by the western door of the 
church. It was a new grave; but the snow had covered 
the grassless sods. The grave was not forgotten yet. A 
wreath of fresh fiowers was laid upon it, and a weeping 
girl stood close beside it, thinking all joy and brightness 
had gone out of her life when the soul passed from the 
worn body of her who lay coffined beneath the snow. 

The vicarage was close to the churchyard. It was a low 
house, with a veranda in front, and a beautiful garden, 
bounded by the river. The Vicar’s study was a modern 
addition to the building. It was built on the churchyard 
side of the house, and had a deep bay-window that filled 
one end of the room. 

The Vicar was fond of sitting in that window. He al- 
ways wrote his sermons there. It was a fitting spot for 
such work. Being up-stairs — the breakfast-room was be- 
low — one could look across the churchyard wall, over the 
green graves. And east and west there were the gently- 
undulating fields, parted from each other by richly-wooded 
hedgerows or by the breadth of the placid river; while 
close at hand was the little village, with its music of human 
voices or human labor. 

The Vicar liked the snow. He I’ose early, to enjoy the 


168 


WIFE OB SLAVE f 


white world outside his study window. The footsteps 
caught his eyes, as they wandered over the sparkling white- 
ness, and he followed them up, till he saw the flowers on 
the grave, and the little black flgure, half hidden by the 
arch of the great door. His face changed slightly. It was 
a calm face, that showed little of the workings of the soul 
within, but it colored with some deep feeling, and tears 
were in his eyes, as he ran quickly down the shallow stair- 
way and opened the breakfast-room door. 

The apartment was a picture of brightness and comfort. 
The table was laid for breakfast for two, and the servant 
was just placing the toast and eggs. A young lady, very 
graceful and pretty, and dressed in a dark linsey, was 
standing by the flre-place, with her foot on the fender, read- 
ing the Christian Year. It was to her the Vicar spoke. 

‘ ‘ Nannie, you have another cup laid — I am going to 
bring Esther Prideaux into breakfast.” 

“Why, Wilfred!” 

But he was gone. A little gate led from the vicarage 
garden into the churchyard. He passed through this, and 
then it was hardly a dozen steps to the western door. 

“ Esther!” 

She had not heard his step and looked up with a start. 

“ How cold you are !” he said, taking her hand. “ Come 
— I am going to take you in to breakfast.” 

Her look touched him to the heart — it was so hopeless in 
its sorrow. Her eyes rested on his face for a moment, and 
then they were directed towards the snowy grave. 

“She doesn’t feel the cold?” she said almost questioniiigly, 
with a shudder in her voice. 

“ ‘ And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the 
moon to shine in it^’ — you know the rest,” returned th^ 
Vicar gently. 

She made no answer, not even a look ; and he took hex 
hand again. 

“Come, Miss Esther.” 

He had no resistance to deal with. She went with him 
at once. Nannie waited at the door, her amazement 
tempered by sympathy. 

“My poor little darling!” she exclaimed, putting her 
arms round Esther, and drawing her to the fire. “You 
are almost frozen !” 

She seated her in the easy-chair, and with quick hands 
drew off her boots, while the Vicar poured out a cup of 
coffee, and brought it to his little guest. 

“I shall send William to the Lindens,” he remarked, as 
he watched her drink it; “I think we deserve to have you 
for to-day. When do you go to London?” 

“On Tuesdaj^”-^-the answer was very low, and spoken 


WIFE OR SLAVE 9 169 

with a quiver of the lips that told of much pain behind 
the word. 

The Vicar looked gravely into the fire, and then back at 
Esther’s pale little face. 

So soon!” exclaimed Nannie, who was still kneeling on 
the rug. “And when shall we see you again, dear?” 

The question broke up Esther’s calmness. 

“Never!” she sobbed out, resting her head upon Nan- 
nie’s short brown curls. ‘ ‘ Aunt is going to let the Linden’s, 
and we are never coming back again.” 

‘ ‘ I should like you to define that dreadful word 
‘never,’” remarked the Vicar, quietly, though his lips 
trembled. “ How many years does it mean, little Esther?” 

She was too accustomed to answer him at once to hesi- 
tate now. She had been his pupil for a year or two, and 
the old habit of obedience was still strong upon her. 

“Four,” she answered, with a sort of gasp, as though 
the length of the years could not be measured in her 
mind. 

“ You will be of age then,” said Nannie, with a sort of 
triumph in her tone. “You will come back to us, then, 
my dear?” 

“ Oh, yes, yes !” sobbed Esther. “I will never leave my 
dear home then — never again !” 

“ That word seems a great favorite with you,” said the 
Vicar, smiling at her, though his smile was troubled. ‘ ‘ Sup- 
pose we leave the future. It is in good hands.” 

He brought her breakfast to the fireside, and they petted 
and soothed her, till some of its usual brightness canle back 
to the little white face. 

The Vicar had sent to the Lindens to say that Esther 
would remain for the day ; but just before church-time a 
handsome carriage drove up to the Vicarage gates. Mrs. 
Prideaux presented her compliments to Mr. Clare, and she 
wished Miss Prideaux to return home at once. 

The Vicar received the message, and went back to 
Esther. 

“You must go home, dear.” 

“ I am going to stay,” said Esther, without stirring from 
her seat. “The carriage may go away. Aunt has no right 
to send for me.” 

“My dear, you must go,” answered the Vicar gently. 
“ I have taught you many lessons, Esther. Let this be the 
last — the lesson of obedience.” 

She started up, and came across the rug to his side. 

“Not the last,” she cried; “I could not bear to think 
that ! When I am of age, I will come back, and you will 
teach me again. Don’t forget me, Mr. Clare; remember 
your pupil a little.’’ 


170 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 


“I promise not to forget you,” he answered, taking both 
her hands. “Heaven bless you, Esther, and give you 

E eace. Take comfort in your life, my dear. There will 
e new friends in it soon.” 

“ Never like the old? Never like you !” was the passion- 
ate answer. 

The Vicar’s sister came in then, indignant and pained at 
the summons for Esther. But Mr. Clare checked her 
hasty remonstrances. 

“ Esther must go, my dear,” he said. 

Nannie was silent; but she kissed and cried over Esther, 
with the impulsive affection which some natures give so 
freely. Esther bore her caresses without repulse, but she 
was keen-hearted enough to value more the Vicar’s linger- 
ing clasp of her hand ; and it was his face she looked at as 
she bent forward as the carriage whirled her away. 

He was standing on the steps, looking after her ; even 
after the carriage had turned the corner of the road, he 
stood there. His sister called to him impatiently at. last. 

“ Do come in, Wilfred. The draught jis horrible, and it 
is so bad for your throat.” 

He closed the door, making some light reply to his sis- 
ter, and went back to the study. 

The bells were ringing merrily now, and people were 
flocking up the church path. It was nearly time for the 
Vicar to go, but his thoughts held him. He would have 
done with them, if he could, before beginning the sacred 
work of the day. 

He had been appointed Vicar of Charleworth four years 
before, and a strong friendship had sprang up between him 
and Mrs. Prideaux, the lady of the Manor. She was a 
great invalid, and it pleased her that Esther, her only 
child, should have more cheerful society, and Esther liked 
to be at the Vicarage with the Vicar and his sister ; and the 
Vicar helped her in her studies when the governess went 
away, and a bright pleasant life had gone on that seemed 
as if it might last forever. 

One sad heart felt the end coming in the dreary autumn 
days. Mrs. Prideaux loved life for Esther’s sake, and she 
was not sure of it for an hour, knew it could not be hers 
for long. Her husband had left her sole guardian of 
Esther; but, at her death, if Esther was still unmarried, 
her uncle was to have the charge of her. 

This was a sore trouble to Mrs. Prideaux, for her hus- 
band’s brother and his wife were people she disliked ex- 
tremely. It was natural, as she meditated upon her dar- 
ling’s future, and shrank from giving her to coarse unlov- 
ing hands that would not shield or guard her, that she 
should think of Mr. Clare, With him she could trust 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 171 

Esther, sure of her being sheltered and watched over as she 
had always been. 

“ Marry her before I die, Wilfred,” she said to him one 
day, “ and I shall not have a care left. Esther loves you; 
I am sure she does.” 

That was what the Vicar thought of, as he paced his 
study once or twice, on that Sunday morning. His answer 
to the dying woman had been a noble and manly one. He 
had begged her to leave her child to Heaven, and be con- 
tent that her future was well cared for. Esther was so 
young, she could not know her own heart, he had wisely 
said ; and yet his heart ached on this day with keen regret. 
For he loved the child dearly— as deeply as such a calm 
nature as his could love anything earthly ; and for a few 
moments he wished he had chosen the bright path, and 
made his worldly future sure. And poor little Esther — he 
would have made her so happy. His very unselfishness 
made his trouble all the worse to bear. 

Wilfred— Wilfred !” called his sister. 

He hurried down-stairs, with a prayer upon his lips for 
help ; and help came to him in the deep, sweet conscious- 
ness that, whatever the end should be, he had done right. 


CHAPTEE II. 

What an untidy room it was! The governess looked 
around it in dismay, as she stood on the threshold with a 
lamp in her hand. The children had been left alone for 
an hour, while she helped their elder sisters to finish some 
mourning-dresses, and the little rebels had dragged every 
book on to the floor, under the pretense of dusting the 
shelves, and rolled the strip of carpet into one corner, in 
company with the table and the globes. 

Fred, “the pickle,” was on his knees before the blazing 
fire, brushing the fender with a black lead brush, requisi- 
tioned from the kitchen. Miss Dora, with her dress tucked 
up, and a handkerchief over her bright curls, was quarrel- 
ing with her younger sister for the broom. The contest 
had just come to the stage of muscular force when Miss 
Hatton appeared on the scene. There was another girl in 
the room, seated cozily in the corner by the fire, a book 
propped on her knees, reading hard, with her hands tight 
over her ears. It was to her Miss Hatton spoke first. 

‘ ‘ Can’t you try to keep a little more order, Ellen, instead 
of mooning there over that silly poetry? This room is 
simply disgraceful.” 

“ You can’t expect them to obey me, when they won’t 
obey you,” was the answer, in a sulky manner. 

Miss Hatton made no answer, but turned to the combat- 


172 


WIFE OR 'SLAVE? 


ants, who had proclaimed an armistice for a moment, and 
stood regarding her under their sullen brows. 

‘ ‘ Dora, Marion— I must insist on more ladylike behav- 
ior. Your cousin will be shocked. And Just look at the 
room! Ellen, get up tl)is moment, and put it tidy.” 

‘'You shouldn’t have come in so soon,” remarked Fred^ 
who was still brushing away with cheerful energy. “We 
should have made it tidy soon.” 

“Indeed!” returned Miss Hatton, putting the lamp upon 
the table, and looking at Ellen. 

She rose slowly from her corner, and commenced to drag 
the things into their proper places. Dora and Marion 
never attempted to help. They had drawn aside together, 
murmuring sullenly against Miss Hatton. When the 
governess found that her commands were obeyed by Ellen, 
she turned to Fred, who took not the slightest notice of 
her, and commenced to whistle “Yankee Doodle,” as he 
polished the well-worn steel. 

“ Do you hear what I say, sir? Get up at once, and go 
and wash your face and hands. They are perfectly black.” 

“ Queen Anne’s dead,” remarked Fred coolly, continuing 
his whistle after this polite reply. 

The fender was finished to his liking by this time how- 
ever, and he got up from off his knees and playfully aimed 
the brush at Miss Hatton. 

“ Don’t be waxy, old wornan ! I’ll be got up in A 1 style 
to meet our wonderful cousin. I’m going to help Ellen a 
bit.” 

He marched off to the other end of the room, where the 
books had been heaped. Ellen, in a breathless, passionate 
way, was picking them up and piling them upon the 
shelves. She turned as the boy came near, and tried to 
hide her face ; but he caught hold of her short, straggling 
hair and ^turned her forcibly round to meet his sympa- 
thizing look. Tlie girl’s handsome dark eyes were flashing 
with suppressed anger. Her whole face was livid with the 
strong emotion that had no relief in words. The boy had 
seen her with such a look once or twice before — once when 
Dora had Jeered at her about her father, and she had al- 
most killed her with a blow. Fred was frightened, and 
helped her to put up the books in silence, though once or 
twice he touched her hand softly, with a gesture of a lov- 
ing brother. 

Miss Hatton was putting before the sisters the advisabil- 
ity of dressing for tea. 

“ Your mamma wishes your cousin Esther to have tea 
here. As she is to be one of the school-room party, she 
may as well begin at once.” 

; “ I don’t 3ee who cousin Esther is that we need dress for 


WIFE OF SLAVE? 178 

her,” returned Marion, moving off, however, after Dora, 
who was always ready to adorn her fair little person. 

By this time the room had resumed its usual appearance. 
A blank, dreary room it was at the best of times, tintless 
and comfortless — a long, narrow room, with three uncur- 
tained windows on one side, looking out from a dizzy 
height on a London street. It w^as Miss Hatton’s home, 
poor soul, and she was to be forgiven any little failure of 
temper. 

Fred walked off to restore his complexion to something 
like its proper color, and the governess was left alone with 
her eldest pupil. Ellen had finished the books and gone 
back to the fire-place— but not to read. She placed her el- 
bows upon the high guard and rested her head upon her 
hands, looking gloomily into the fire. 

Miss Hatton had gone to look after her rebellious pupils, 
and Ellen was alone, when the school-room door opened 
hastily to admit Mrs. Prideaux and the expected visitor. 
Ellen had never seen any one so fair and gentle-looking as 
the young girl who entered in deep mourning, and her 
desolate heart went out to Esther at once. 

Mrs. Prideaux’s introduction was characteristic. 

“ This is Ellen, my dear. In a day or two she is going 
away to learn to become a useful member of society.” 

“ I am very glad,” returned Ellen defiantly. 

Esther kissed her. 

Are you going to school then?” she said. ‘‘I am sorry, 
dear. We should be friends.” 

Mrs. Prideaux had turned to the door. Footsteps dear 
to her were coming up the stairs- her darling’s, her idol’s 
— handsome Percy. He was the son of her first marriage 
in the far-off time, when Mrs. Prideaux was young and she 
loved him best of all. He came in, a smiling beautiful lad, 
in the first bloom of manhood. 

He and Esther clasped hands, and looked into each 
other’s eyes, she reading kindly sympathy in his, he seeing 
beauty and gentleness in hers. Ellen was forgotten ; and 
she w'ent away to her lonely room, to half break her heart, 
wishing for gentle ways and soft blue eyes like Esther’s, 
so that she too^ might be loved. 

Esther, in the kindly feeling sorrow gives, made a good 
deal of Ellen for the first few days, till the bleak morning 
when the lonely girl started on her journey to the school 
in North Wales, where she was to be trained for a gover- 
ness. Esther kissed her good-bye, and gave her a pretty 
gold locket with her likeness in it, and promised to write 
to her often. 

Promises are easily given, and Esther really meant hers 
at the time. But the days went on, and her sorrow grew 


m 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


lighter day by day, as a new joy came into her life. Mrs. 
Prideaux had hoped and planned ; but she had never ex- 
pected such speedy fulfillment of her hopes. She was the 
happiest on that summer evening when Percy came to tell 
her that Esther had promised to be his wife. 

“When you have taken your degree, my darling," the 
mother said, when he spoke of marriage. “Oh, Percy, 
this is the happiest moment of my life!” 

They all went to Scotland for the summer. Fred wanted 
Esther to ask for Ellen to be allowed to come with them ; 
but Esther had so much to think of that she forgot Fred’s 
request, and Ellen never came home. Nobody thought of 
her but Fred — she was dropped out of the family life. It 
would have been just the same if she had been miserable ; 
but Mrs. Prideaux had unwittingly found a tender home 
for Ellen, and a mother’s care, when she placed her with 
Mrs. Forsyth. Wliile Percy and Esther were in the dream 
of first love, Ellen, in the pretty house among the Welsh 
mountains, was earning a child’s place in Mrs. Forsyth’s 
heart. 

Between Ellen and the schoolmistress a deep and strong- 
affection sprang up, and Mrs. Forsyth’s kindly influence 
sweetened and made beautiful the ardent nature of the 
girl. Llandinvawr air and sunshine, and the regular life, 
and the tender, motherly care rounded Ellen’s cheeks and lit 
her eyes wdth light and her lips with smiles. 

And the years went on. 


CHAPTER III. 

Three years is a long time to look forward to ; but how 
quickly it passes when no great sorrow comes to lengthen 
moments of pain. 

For Esther the three years were as a beautiful summej* 
day, a day in June, when none of the flowers are dead and 
no presage of winter tempest and decay comes from earth 
and sky. 

The third spring found all the family at the Lindens. 
Esther’s marriage had been fixed for the autumn before ; 
but it was postponed because of the illness of Mr. Prideaux. 
He died at Christmas, very little missed or sorrowed for. 
The wedding was then fixed for May ; and when the red 
dawn of the morning of the year was on the trees, and the 
first primroses bloomed under the ruddy boughs, the 
Prideaux family came down to Esther’s home. 

Mr. Clare felt keenly that he was allowed to hear of their 
arrival only from the gossip of the village. Esther’s cor- 
respondence wdth the Vicar had dropped— old friends had 
little chance to be remembered in the first flush of her new 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


175 


happiness. Yet Esther never meant to be unkind; natures 
like hers can do the cruelest things and never realize the 
pain they give. She had not forgotten Mr. Clare ; and in 
any trouble her thoughts would have gone back to him as 
a bird to its mother’s nest. But she did not need him now. 

Mr. Clare accepted his position calmly; still it was hard 
at first — hard to meet Esther after those years of parting, 
and have no words with her but those that the merest ac- 
quaintance could have shared. Esther cared more to talk 
to Nannie than with her brother ; for Nannie, too, was en- 
gaged, and would be married in the summer. So the two 
girls had long talks in the vicarage drawing-room, while 
Percy walked up and down the garden with the Yicar, 
talking and arguing over the scientific problems of the 
day. 

Percy, since leaving college, had been proceeding with 
his studies. Women’s talk tired him, though he did not 
confess it, even to himself ; and it was a relief to get away 
from tJie drawing-room circle and the dreary platitudes of 
his women-folk, to have an hour’s “ grind” at mathematics, 
or to read the last new thing from scientific circles. He 
tried now and then to interest Esther in his work, but he 
might as well have talked to a butterfly of the theory of 
evolution and the constancy of natural law. 

“Now, if you are going to be wise, I shall run away,” 
Esther would say, putting her hands over her ears, and 
looking bewitching in her petulance. ‘ ‘ I never could under- 
stand words of more than three syllables.” 

So Percy gave up the attempt, and walked placidly by 
his lady-love, under the deepening shadows of the lindens, 
trying to feel intensely happy, but all the time being 
rather bored. 

He and the Vicar became great friends. Esther was busy 
about her trousseau^ and deep in consultation with Mrs. 
Prideaux and the dressmaker for a good deal of the day. 
So Percy was glad to go down to the vicarage and talk to 
Mr. Clare. ‘ 

So the days slipped by. 

It was the middle of April. Percy had hardly noticed 
how the days were passing, but the rest of the month was 
to be the crisis of his life. A great deal of discussion had 
been going on between the ladies over their fancy-work all 
day j Percy, leaning back on the sofa, with the Quarterly 
in his hand, had a dim idea that something was being de- 
cided about that uncomfortable cousin whom Fred was so 
fond of. 

“ What was mother saying about Ellen?” he asked, as 
he walked with Esther in the garden. 

“Oh, Miss Hatton is wanted somewhere or other! Her 


176 


WIFE OF SLAVE? 


brother is dying, I believe. Fancy Miss Hatton with a 
brother and natural affections! But she is going, and 
auntie has decided upon sending for Ellen to take charge 
of the children while she is away.” 

‘‘Fred will be delighted,” was Percy’s only remark on 
the subject. 

Two or three days afterward Mrs. Prideaux and her 
daughters and Esther had driven to the next town on a 
shopping expedition. Percy went down to the vicarage ; 
but Mr. Clare had g’one on parish business to the village, 
about a couple of miles from the Lindens, where a railway- 
station had lately been built. Percy, for want of some- 
thing to do, walked on along the level turnpike-road, in 
the hope of meeting the Vicar. It was a warm day, and 
the road was slightly dusty, but the sweet-smelling hedges 
were bright with flowers, and a fresh breeze blew across 
the plowed fields. 

About a mile along the road, a gate in the hedge re- 
vealed a pathway, green Avith early grass, between two 
high banks of short soft moss. The banks at the t.op were 
(n*owned by some stately trees, and the shadows of the 
young leaves fell cool and pleasant upon the footpath be- 
loAv. Percy was glad to leave the dusty road, to have the 
grass beneath his feet and tlie arching bows above him. 
He walked on, whistling softly to himself, and enjoying 
the coolness and the pleasant silence. 

The lane descended slowly toward the village, with 
many devious turnings, so that one could see only a few 
steps in advance; and Percy suddenly came to a stile 
leading to a footpath across some fields. A tall girlish 
figure was leaning over the stile, turned from Percy. He 
had time to notice the pretty quaintness of the simpli^ 
dress, and the exquisite grace of the girl’s drooping atti- 
tude, before she took her arms from off the bar and stepped 
back to let him pass. She glanced at him carelessly in do- 
ing so. and Percy saw, as their eyes met, how her expi*es- 
sion changed and her face colored. 

“ You don’t know me, Percy ? I am your cousin Ellen !” 

“Really!” He clasped her hand. “Didn’t my mother 
know? Why didn’t somebody meet you?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know! It doesn’t matter. But I shall be 
glad if you will show me my way. This is all strange 
ground.” 

Percy could not realize that this was Ellen, this beautiful 
girl. 

“And you are happy at — at— that place?” 

A curious look passed over Ellen’s face. 

“Yes; I am very happy at that place. I hope Miss Hat- 
ton's relative will soon recover.” 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 177 

[ Percy hoped differently. He felt that it would be very 
sweet to have Ellen in the house. 

They walked back, talking a great deal. Percy found 
out that Ellen knew some college friends of his, who had 
gone down for a reading-party to Wales during the sum- 
mer before. Ellen talked of them quite frankly, though 
her color came and went, as Percy went on to speak of one 
of the party who had taken very high honors. 

“ And you knew Forbes?” 

‘‘ A little. He is Mrs. Forsyth’s cousin. He did \velF’' 

‘ ‘ I should think so ! Forbes is one of the few who will 
be our leaders in the future. He was a great favorite at 
college.” 

Ellen did not answer. A close observer would have 
seen, in her trembling lips and the look of her dark eyes, 
the evidence of some strong emotion, but Percy never 
noticed it. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Esther found it convenient to accept Ellen’s declaration 
that she was very happy and contented in the school- 
room. Esther was so busy and so happy that no time was 
left to make others happier. Ellen was left pretty much 
alone by the women-folk. Mrs. Prideaux went into the 
school-room once or twice a day to lecture and admonish, 
and the elder girls never lest an opportunity of making 
Ellen feel her position; but, for the greater part of the 
bright spring days, the young governess was left alone 
with her pupils, except for Percy’s frequent visits. 

He was a great deal in the school-room. He soon found 
that Ellen could appreciate his pursuits, and it became a 
usual thing for him to bring his books and talk to her 
about them. Ellen could converse well, and they had 
many an argument on the current topics of the day. 

Percy was not given to analyze the causes that made 
a thing pleasant to him. Unconsciously his thoughts took 
a new color. He had no idea of being disloyal to Esther: 
he would have pronounced it an impossibility to love any 
other woman than the one he intended to make his wife 
in a month ; but feelings are above rule. Before a fortnight 
of the month had passed Percy loved Ellen as he had 
never loved Esther, as he never could love her. It was ac- 
cident that showed him the true state of his feelings. 
Fred was come home. He was a sailor now, and as fond 
of Ellen as ever. Percy found his talks with his cousin 
an impossibility; now" that Fred was always in the school- 
room. 


178 WIFE OR SLAVE? 

“You care more for Fred than for me,” he said to Ellen 
bitterly. 

‘ ‘ I care more for Fred than for anybody else — you know 
I do,” she returned meeting, the glance of his angry, pas- 
sionate eyes. 

“ More than anybody else in the world? Eeally Ellen?” 

She colored so deeply that it was not hard to guess that 
there was somebody dearer still. 

“ Is there ‘ one other’ ?” he said, in the breathless tone 
of intense emotion. 

They were standing at the school-room window. It was 
open, and Percy, as he asked the question, crushed with 
his hot hands the vine-leaves that clung round the sill. 

“ The poor little leaves!” said Ellen, to whom Percy's 
state of mind was perfectly unknown. She put her hand 
playfully upon his, to keep him from destroying the pretty 
green things. 

The slight touch went through him like fire. He forgot 
everything in one mad impulse, and caught both her hands 
and drew her closely to him. 

“ Ellen, Ellen, I love you 1” 

He would have gone on recklessly and passionately, had 
not the expression of Ellen’s face stopped and chilled him.. 
Contempt, disdainful pity, awful surprise — he could see 
them all. He dropped her hands, and covered his face 
with his own. 

“It is true. Heaven forgive me, I couldn’t help it, 
Ellen ! Why did you come here?” 

‘ Hush 1” she said, in an imperative, almost comtemptu- 
ous tone. “You are not yourself to-day, cousin Percy. 
You are a good, true man, and you will marry Esther in a 
fortnight — dear little Esther !” 

“ Do you wish to drive me mad?” he asked passionately. 
‘ ‘ Of course I shall marry her. But I love you. Don’t 
look at me like that, cousin Ellen — was it my fault? Our 
feelings are not our own to control.” 

“ Our words are,” she said, coldly. 

“ If you knew what love meant, you would feel for me,” 
he returned. “ But you don’t; you have no pity.” 

She looked up bravely into his face. 

“ Cousin Percy, I do know what love means. Some one 
I knew once used to like to talk with me. He liked me a 
little, but I loved him dearly— I always shall. Still it 
doesn’t prevent my being happy.” 

Fred’s gay step on the stairs interrupted them. Ellen 
went to the table and took up her work, and Percy stood 
with his back to the room, looking out of the window. 
Fred had been into the town with his sisters. 

“ I have brought you your books, Nellie, Do you know. 


WIFE OR SLAVE? 179 

I met a friend of yours in the shop as I was getting them?” 

Did you? Who was it?” 

“ A fine-looking fellow. He was with a party of jolly- 
looking girls. The mater knows them, and they were all 
talking together, while I asked for your books. The tall 
unknown was looking over some volumes close beside me. 
I said the books were for Miss Chandos, but the man pulled 
down two editions of Horace, and I didn’t know which to 
to take. While I was hesitating, the man at my side re- 
marked, in the coolest way, ‘ 1 beg your pardon, but Miss 
Chandos uses this edition,’ taking up one of them. I gazed 
at him in mute astonishment, and he added, with the jol- 
liest of smiles, ‘ Miss Chandos and I are old friends. Will 
you tell her Arthur Forbes chose her Horace?’ ” 

Ellen took up the book, coloring painfully. 

“Yes, this is the right one. Thank you, Fred.” 

H< 

“ Suppose we all go over to see this grand cricket-match 
to-morrow, ” remarked Mrs. Prideaux at dessert that even- 
ing. “ The Davenants were telling me about it to-day. It 
will be a good affair. You will see some of your college 
friends there, Percy.” 

“Shall I?” he remarked, carelessly. “ I can’t say I feel 
intensely delighted at the idea. ” 

“Some of the eleven are staying with the Davenants,” 
said Esther. 

I ' ‘ What a fine-looking fellow that was with them !” 

Fred smiled to himself over his walnuts. 

“ He is the captain of the eleven,” remarked his eldest 
sister. “Mary Davenant told me that he has just suc- 
ceeded to a handsome fortune.” 

“I should like to go to-morrow,” said Esther. “A 
cricket-match is great fun.” 

“ Can’t Ellen go, mater asked Fred, who never lost a 
chance of pleading the cause of his favorite, and had a 
special reason for wishing Ellen to go to the cricket-match. 

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Prideaux sharply. 

“ I don’t see why she shouldn’t,” remarked Fred stoutly. 

‘ ‘ Do let her go !” 

“ Yes, please let her go,” said Esther, who was given to 
compunction of conscience on Ellen’s account. 

Mrs. Prideaux rarely resisted any appeal of Esther’s ; so 
she said graciously enough : 

“ Well, if Ellen cares to go; but I hope she has too much 
sense to wish to mingle in scenes quite unfitted to her lot 
in life.” 

But Ellen did not prove worthy of Mrs. Prideaux’s good 
opinion. She accepted the ungracious invitation at once, 
and joined the party in the hall next morning, dressed 


180 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


very quietly, but with exquisite taste. Mrs. Prideaux 
made a rule of ignoring her niece’s existence on all public 
occasions ; but Esther greeted her with a pleasant smile, 
and Fred rushed up with a knot of pink ribbons. 

“ Ellen, wear the same colors that I do. I chose them 
because I knew they would suit you,” he added in a 
whisper. 

“A reason worthy of you,” said Ellen, laughing. “But 
whose colors are they? I don’t care to wear the badge of 
a party I know nothing about.” 

“ The match, my dear innocent cousin,” returned Fred, 
“ is to be played between the regiment stationed at Woking 
and a club composed of fellows who have got a degree at 
Cambridge. The pink is the military color.” 

Ellen took the knot of ribbons, but she did not fasten it 
in her dress, and not all Fred’s badinage could make her 
do so. 

Percy avoided her pointedly . Ellen felt irritated beyond 
measure -with him. She could not believe in the reality of 
his feelings, and could not bear to think of what he had 
told her. She held it as showing the most contemptible 
weakness, even if it were true, which she doubted. 

Fred drove her and two of his younger sisters in the 
little pony-carriage. Ellen was to go in the character of 
the governess, as she persisted in going. She felt her posi- 
tion no indignity, and was very bright and merry. For 
some reason she was intensely excited. Her cheeks were 
flushed with an exquisite color, and her eyes were brighter 
than Fred had ever seen them. 

The match was to be played on the Woking cricket- 
ground, a piece of flat grass-land by the river, surrounded 
by some noble trees. A number of gayly-dressed visitors 
had arrived, and gay flags were fluttering from the tents 
erected at each end, and the regimental band played en- 
livening airs at intervals. 

The Prideaux family knew a number of people, and they 
joined a large group under the trees. Ellen stood a little 
apart with Fred and her pupils. 

“My governess,” Mrs. Prideaux said to her friends. 

Ellen heard it, and smiled. She did not care in the 
least. As she chatted with Fred her eyes wandered rest- 
lessly over the groups. He was watching her with a mis- 
chievous smile, and her sudden start and color made him 
follow the direction of her glance. 

A group of ladies with blue ribbons in their dresses, at- 
tended by some good-looking men, had just entered the 
ground. They walked slowly up under the trees, toward 
the spot where Ellen and her party stood. The youngest 
of the Davenants, a pretty girl, had fallen a little behind^ 


WIFE on SLAVE f 


ISl 

chatting gayly to her companion, a very handsome, manly 
fellow. He was fail-, with the brightest of blue eyes and a 
golden mustache. He was talking merrily enough to his 
companion, but his eyes wandered eagerly round. Ellen 
did not glance in his direction again ; but he saw her, and 
stepped forward, and whispered something to a sweet-faced 
woman in front. Her eyes sought Ellen at once, and rested 
on her with evident approval. 

Fred watched all this by-play, and was quite prepared 
for what followed. The Davenants joined the group 
where the Prideaux were standing, and a great deal of 

f reeting went on. Ellen tried to talk carelessly to Fred, 
ut her voice faltered. A few moments of suspense, a 
dreary feeling that she was forgotten, and then a frank 
voice with a tremor of emotion in it said at her side : 

“ Did you get your Horace, Miss Chandos?” 

She turned quickly, and shook hands with the speaker. 
With the tenderest of glances the blue eyes met hers. 
Ellen felt dizzy with happpiness. 

“I went to North Wales last week,” he said in a low 
voice. ‘ ‘ Mrs. Forsyth told me you were here. I am so 
glad you came to-day.” 

“Yes?” 

“I should have come to see you to-morrow, though,” 
said Mr. Forbes, looking smilingly at the down-dropped 
eyes. “But I want you to know my mother, and she 
wants to know you.” 

He stepped back, and called her ; and Ellen had an ear- 
nest welcoming shake of the head, and a kindly glance 
from eyes that were enough like Arthur’s to make her 
love them at once. Then more introductions followed be- 
tween the Davenants and Miss Chandos. 

Fred disappeared with the unruly pupils, and Ellen found 
herself seated under the trees hy Mrs. Forbes, and the 
Misses Davenant and Arthur standing at her side, the lat- 
ter neglecting his duties as captain to talk to her for a few 
moments. 

“You have no colors,” he said. “Little traitress, you 
do not dare to be neutral?” 

“ No,” she returned, with an upward look at him that 
was delicious to meet. 

“ Miss Davenant,” he said, “ have you a bit of blue rib- 
bon? The fortunes of the day depend upon my getting 
some. ” 

Miss Davenport had a roll of ribbon in her pocket and a 
roll was soon cut off and knotted into a bow for Ellen’s 
neck. Then Arthur went oft to his work, and Ellen talked 
to Mrs. Forbes, all the time watching her son's tall figure, 


182 OR SLAVE 9 

with a look that a man receives only from one pair of eyes 
all his life. 

Ellen’s reception by Mrs. Forbes and the Davenants, the 
most distinguished people on the ground, was not lost on 
Mrs. Prideaux and her daughters. They could not under- 
stand it; and their amazement and annoyance were in- 
creased more and more as the day went on. There was no 
mistaking Arthur Forbes’s attention to the young govern- 
ess. “What does he mean by it?” said Mrs. Prideaux 

to Percy. “ If Ellen was anybody else, I should say ” 

Percy interrupted her savagely with — 

‘ ‘ It doesn’t require much perception to see what Arthur 
Forbes means, mother. He and Ellen are old friends and 
quite understand each other. ” 

Percy was looking intensely wretched and ill-tempered 
His mother and sisters put it down to the heat of the day, 
Esther to a mild flirtation she was carrying on with one of 
the ofiicers of the regiment. Only one person was clear- 
sighted enough to detect some deeper reason for the young 
man’s haggard face. Mr. Clare did not care particularly 
for cricket, but he had brought his sister; and now he 
stood a little apart from the merry groups, watching by 
turns Esther and her lover. Esther was seated on the 
grass, evidently intensely happy. Something in her face 
reminded Mr. Clare of the rhapsody of the water wag- 
tail — 

“ It was for my accommodation 
Nature rose when I was born ; 

Should I die, tlie whole creation 
Back to nothing would return. 

Sun, moon, stars, the earth, you see, 

All the world was made for me.” 

The Vicar smiled as he quoted the verse to himself, but 
it was a sad smile. He knew enough of human life to feel 
that Esther had bitter schooling in store for her. His eyes 
turned to Percy, who certainly looked very unlike a happy 
lover; and something of the truth came to him, as he saw 
how Percy’s eyes were on Ellen, even while he talked to 
his betrothed. 


CHAPTER V. 

Mrs. Prideaux was very cross to Ellen when they 
reached home, and lectured her severely about her be- 
havior during the day. But Ellen Avas too happy to care 
for anything. Something Arthur had whispered to her as 
they parted, made her utterly careless as to her aunt’s 
bitter words. She saw her pupils safely in bed, and, too 
excited to sit still in the school-room, she threw a shawl 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 18« 

over her shoulders, and went out into the fresh dewy 
garden. 

The moon was full, and the clear light shone pleasantly 
down upon the Lindens. Ella walked slowly up and down 
the broad walk under the trembling shadows. There was 
a nightingale singing in a bush close by, and its full ex- 
quisite song seemed an echo of the gladness in her heart. 

The drawing-room windows were open, and she could 
hear Esther playing. Esther played correctly ; but Ellen 
could hardly bear to hear the spiritless rendering of one of 
her favorite sonatas ; and she turned and walked further 
away from the house, down a walk bordered on each side 
by high laurels. There was a little shrubbery at the end of 
the walk, with a summer-house in it. The moonlight fell 
clearly through the lattice-work, and Ellen saw at once, as 
she turned the corner, that Percy was seated at the little 
table, with his head buried in his hands. He heard her 
steps, and started up before she could draw back. 

“ Ellen, stay one moment! I shall never ask anything 
of you again ; let me speak to you now !” 

Ellen stood still, and he came to her side, and looked 
wildly into her face. 

“ This Arthur Forbes,” he said — “ are you going to marry 
him ?” 

‘‘Yes,” answered Ellen unshrinkingly. “Percy, dear 
cousin Percy, what a happy life you will have with darling 
Esther !” 

“ Hush!” he said, in a tone that frightened Ellen, brave 
as she was. “ I can never marry her; how can I? I hate 
her, Ellen ! I hate her smooth selfish ways and her silly 
face ! I will not marry her !” 

Percy was but a boy still, and Ellen pitied him with the 
mother- feeling all true women have. He leant back against 
the summer-house door and covered his face with his hands, 
with a gesture of utter despair. Ellen went to his side, and 
put her hand gently upon his shoulder. 

“Be true to your own true self, dear Percy,” she said 
earnestly. “ This madness will pass, and leave manhood 
unsullied, if you will only be strong.” 

“Oh, Ellen, I cannnot help it! I love you more than 
heaven and earth. What shall I do, dear?” 

In pitiful trust he rested his head upon her shoulder. 
Ellen touched his brow lightly with her hand, and smoothed 
back the damp hair. What could she say? Some words 
were on her lips, when a hasty exclamation startled them 
both. Percy hastily drew back from Ellen ; and they both 
turned, to see Mrs. Prideaux and Esther standing in the 
moonlight. Ellen did not speak ; she stood perfectly still, 
while Percy went forward and addressed Esther. 


184 


WIFE OR SLAVE P 


“I don’t know what you liave heard,” he said. “ I will 
tell you the truth now. I have never really loved you. It 
was all a bitter mistake. I am thankful you have found it 
out before it was too late !” 

With a gesture he stopped his mother’s exclamation. 

“ It is not Ellen’s fault, mother ; she is engaged to Arthur 
Forbes. I am to blame, if there is any blame. Esther and 
I were too young to know our own minds when we were 
engaged.” 

“ I don’t understand,” said Esther, faintly. “Don’t you 
care for me at all, Percy?” 

Mrs. Prideaux took her arm. 

“Come away, Esther darling. Ellen Chandos has re- 
paid the care I have given her by ruining my life. ” 

But Ellen was gone. Percy attempted to speak ; but his 
mother would not hear him, and he was left alone. 

Esther could not realize what had happened. She hardly 
believed it, even the next morning, when a letter was 
brought to her from Percy. He had gone away ; he was 
never coming back any more. The gilded future that had 
been so near to Mrs. Prideaux had come down with an 
awful crash. 

Poor little Esther ! She read the letter that had cost 
Percy half the night to write, gradually getting the truth 
into her stunned brain. Then she put it away from her, 
into her desk — a little ivory inlaid toy, full of Percy’s let- 
ters and his presents. She dressed with as much care as 
usual, and went down to the breakfast-room very white 
and quiet. Mrs. Prideaux met her at the door. 

“ I was coming to you, my darling.” 

“ Thank you,” said her niece, looking steadily into her 
face. “I am quite well. I should like my breakfast.” 

She passed Mrs. Prideaux and sat down at the gayly-ap- 
pointed table and poured out her coffee with a steady hand. 
No one else was in the room. Mrs. Prideaux leaned over 
the back of her niece’s chair and touched her hair trem- 
blingly. 

“Oh, Esther, Esther!” 

But Esther did not speak. 

“ It was all Ellen’s fault. Percy will come to his senses 
soon, and we shall all be happy again.” 

Esther’s smooth face hardened. 

“I shall never forgive him, aunt. We are parted for 
ever. He may marry Ellen if he likes.” 

Tiie entrance of Mrs. Prideaux’s daughters stopped the 
pleading of the miserable mother, and the breakfast went 
on, Esther talking a little more than usual. After break- 
fast Mr. Forbes was announced. He asked to see Miss 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 185 


Chandos, but Mrs. Prideaux had given orders that he was 
to be shown into the drawing-room where she was. 

After a little desultory conversation, Mr. Forbes re- 
quested to see Ellen : and Mrs. Prideaux, who had with 
difficulty controlled herself for so long, hastened to tell 
him the story of the previous night, after a fashion of her 
own. Mr. Forbes listened gravely, but he made no remark 
of any sort. He could have told Mrs. Prideaux that he 
had seen Percy that morning, and had had a long talk 
with him ; but he said nothing till the story was finished. 
Then he asked to see Ellen. His quiet, determined manner 
had effect on Mrs. Prideaux; and, after some hesitation, 
she went up to the schoolroom. Ellen was there, going- 
through the usual routine, and looking very much dis- 
tressed and excited. 

“Mr. Forbes wants to speak to you. I have told him 
everything, Ellen. He knows what an ungrateful, wicked 
girl you are.” 

Ellen looked pitifully into her aunt’s face. 

“Oh, aunt, 1 never thought — I would rather anything 
but this had happened !” 

But Mrs. Prideaux turned away coldly. She would never 
forgive her niece. 

Ellen went down-stairs. All her nerves were throbbing 
with pain. Her trembling hand could scarcely open the 
drawing-room door. She looked timidly into her lover’s 
face when she entered — only one look ; the next moment 
her face was hidden, and she was held tightly in his arms. 

“ My darling, my poor darling 1” 


Ellen went back to Llandinvawr next day ; and in the 
autumn she was married. By that time Percy was teach- 
ing in one of the public schools, and Mrs. Prideaux had 
gone to live with him. For her heart yawned for her 
darling boy, and she found her position very different at 
the Lindens now. Esther had a quiet way of asserting her 
authority as mistress which was very galling to bear. So 
the Lindens were let again, and Esther went abroad under 
the chaperonage of an old friend of the family. It was 
two years before she came back. 

Ellen was living in London ; and she and Esther often 
met in society. It was about six months after Esther’s re- 
turn to England, when Mrs. Arthur Forbes and Miss 
Prideaux were invited to a brilliant garden-party at Lady 
Mowbray’s pretty house at Twickenham. 

Since her marriage Ellen had not had any long conversa- 
tion with the heiress; and she was rather surprised when 
Esther drew her away from the knot of clever talkers that 
always gathered round Mr. Forbes’s brilliant wife. 


1B6 


WIFE OR SLAVE f 


“ I want to tell you something, Ellen,” she said, with a 
little quiver in her voice. I am going to be married !” j 

Ellen looked at her without speaking ; but Esther under- > 

stood the look of her eyes. \ 

“Oh, no, no — not to Percy — I have forgotten him — to \ 

Mr. Clare! He has loved me all my life, Ellen.” ' 

Percy never married. He became a famous man; but 
he was never very rich, and he died before his mother. ^ 
Esther was happy as a rector’s wife. The existence suited 
her, and she was considered a most exemplary and beauti- 
ful-minded woman. There was no one, however, who 
understood her better than her husband, much as he loved 
her. 


[THE END.] 



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